


Blood For Love

by EJelly



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 'cause murder remember, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Best Brother Shiro, But most are dead, Detective Keith (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Graphic Description of Corpses, Homophobia, Keith speaks fluent sarcasm, M/M, Madame Allura, Murder, Old derogatory terms, Original Character(s), POV First Person, POV Keith (Voltron), Pickpocket Lance, Pining Keith (Voltron), Prostitutes, Tags Are Hard, i love how thats a tag, murder mystery ish, victorian london
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EJelly/pseuds/EJelly
Summary: The year is 1896 and the dark London streets are quieter than usual...Prostitutes are turning up dead around the East End, drained of blood and so far, there are no suspects.Keith isn't pleased to be back home, called in from out West to help his brother in the weirdest case since Jack The Ripper...but that's what Kieth's good at, dealing with the weird and mysterious cases that send most detectives running.What he's not good with are the busy streets, meaningless social interactions...and things he can't solve...That's why Keith struggles when he has to work with Lance, an easy going,beautiful pickpocket with a smile like the frickin' sun... and nimble fingers like Fagin himself...





	1. Another Judy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so...this is my first ever attempt at a Klance fic so...be gentle...
> 
> I've had the idea for ages and I know I shouldn't take on another project, buuuut...new year isn't it...  
> There's some olde Vic' language so I've taken the liberty of writing a little glossary in the end notes in case anyone wants to know.  
> Any feedback and stuff is SO appreciated so I know whether or not anyone actually wants to read any more XD  
> Please let me know if you notice any silly mistakes!  
> THanks!!!!

(Keith POV)

“Get y’ur feckin’ hands off a me!” I watch the drunk man be led through the front doors of the police station then left to his own devices, slumped in a wooden chair by the front desk. “I ‘ave a right to a lawyer…”

“Shaaaat uuup ya drunk!!” Another constable walks passed, sparing the drunkard a quick word and the man goes quiet…for a moment.

“I dn esgg – discrimination!” I’m not even sure what that meant…but the guy was white and very much not within the minority of this city.

“Don’t suppose we have some way to gag him…or lock him in a dark room?” My wry tone breaks through the constant hammering of voices in the background and Hunk looks up from his paperwork.

“Shiro told me if I let you gag someone again he’d get angry…”

“Well…God forbid his holiness experiences pure unadulterated rage for once in his life.” I reply and Hunk chuckles, lightly patting my shoulder. I don’t look over, my eyes still trained to the front door.

“I think you more than make up for that temperament for the rest of us, hey, Keith?” Hunk goes around to the back of the front desk and offers help to a rather middle-class looking woman. She had far too many frilly layers to be out in this part of town. I flicker my eyes away from the door to take in another commotion at the far end of the room. The police station wasn’t huge, and it was hard enough already to handle the demand since London’s recent spike in crime. These streets were never a safe place to live…but recent developments in the back alleys at night had people worked up like nothing else.

I take out the busted pocket watch from my coat and let out a small sigh. I hated hanging around the station, there were too many people and it always smelt terrible. I look back to Hunk and watch him adjust his hat so that it sits perfectly on top his larger than average head. He was put on the front desk because his heavy build came in handy with difficult criminals, but he had the sunniest disposition when dealing with visitors.

He was the nicest enigma I had ever met…

I hear the bell of the door cut through what decipherable noises were left and I look over to see Shiro remove his hat and smile sweetly at a woman. He holds the door open for her with his one good hand…and when I say ‘good’, I mean, still there. My brother lost his other arm in an accident, a mere setback in his plans towards Inspector. He acts like the true gentleman he’s always been and once the woman leaves, Shiro’s eyes travel across the chaotic room to finally land on my own flat expression. He walks over and smiles.

“You’re late…” I tell him and put my watch away, picking my hat off from the side.

“Good day to you too…chipper as always?” I say nothing and make it quite clear I was ready to leave.

“Oh, he’s just beaming bright this morning!” Hunk chimes in and Shiro turns to give him his attention, chuckling.

“Is that so? My brother, the epitome of all things bright and beautiful?” I roll my eyes at the discussion and shove my hands in my pockets.

“That’s me…” My voice comes out bored. “…skip-hoping through a candy-cane field of butterflies and sharing and sunshine…can we go now?” Shiro actually laughs out loud at my words, his smile making the crow’s feet by his eyes scrunch up enough to remain behind once his laughter dies down.

“Of course…Hunk…” Shiro nods to the smiling cop behind us and I put my hat on. “…we’ll see you later…” He turns to me and his face gains a little sobriety. “Hope you’ve got a strong stomach this morning.” I grunt in response and make a bee line for the exit.

I needed to get out of here…

 

As soon as we’re out in the ‘fresh air’ – a term I use quite loosely – I light a cigarette and scan the few papers Shiro passes to me.

“When was it called in?” I ask and look at the brief description of what we’re heading towards.

“About two o’clock this morning…body was found stuck between a loose waste pipe and a produce crate.” My brother responds thickly.

“Judy?”

“Yeah…initial reports are saying it was a bearing up gone wrong…” A Judy was a common prostitute working the streets. I peer up and see various eyes following us down the road, heavy lids hidden between shadows and dark blinds.

“Seems likely…tactics like that go wrong all the time…” I conclude it quickly, not seeing any red flags or immedite excuse for my presence. ‘Bearing up’ was a term for when a woman tempts a man to a lonely place, so he can be robbed. I fold the paper up and shove it into my pocket then take a drag of the cigarette, watching the smoke blend into the dirty, city air…

“Usually I’d say you were right but…it’s two women too many for me to write it off like that anymore.” I risk peering over at Shiro’s sad little face when he talks and I let out a sigh.

“No leads after the kid on Aldgate?” I ask, mostly just to keep the conversation flowing. 

“Nothing…” We stop beside a Benz Viktoria and I nod my head at the driver, a stocky old man with a grey moustache and pressed suit.

“You think it’s connected to the Judy murders?” I get in the car and pull the papers out once again, flicking my cigarette over the side.

“Fordham Street, please, Goather…” Shiro says and sits back in his seat beside me before we set off further into the East end. “…Honestly?” He shrugs. “I have no idea.” I sigh and take in the bleak alleyways that jut out from the main road. Carts and stalls lining the dirty edges in front of run down houses. I look down at the black and white face, cuts adorning her high cheekbones. This was the first victim a little over two weeks ago.

“She all in one piece?” My question comes out spiritless, not fazed by the picture in the slightest. I sense my brother’s eyes on me and I look up, raising an eyebrow.

“In a sense…she’s all there, yeah.”

“Not a Jack then…” I throw out.

“No… that is pretty clear from the off cut. Jack always showed more method and surgical standards. This is just…” Shiro sighs and gestures outwards. “…this is just draining the cattle…so to speak.” I nod my head slowly. The car comes to an abrupt stop and I look around Whitechapel. Fordham road was only a short walk away, so we hop out and make our way towards the back street.

 

“Shiro…I’m glad you’re finally here!” A loud, accented voice calls from across the road. Shiro puts his hand out and shakes hands with the ginger haired man that towers over us both.

“Inspector Coran…” Shiro responds politely and Coran smiles, turning his attention to me.

“Kogane! It’s a pleasure to have you back in the jurisdiction. We could really do with someone who thinks like you around at the moment.”

“Glad I could help…any development within the hour?” I ask. Coran twirls a crooked finger around the end of his moustache and nods his head sombrely.

“Not really, I’m afraid…take a look…” He turns back to the entrance of the road, leading us towards a cluster of tape and suited bodies. As we approach, Shiro gestures for me to take over and I let myself through the tape and the meandering coppers. Once I get to the front, an acrid smell fills the air and I use my scarf to cover the lower half of my face. I squat down and take in the pale and torn up body that had been lain on the oily ground. An off-white sheet had been placed to the side, ready to transport her to the local morgue – most likely the one back at the police station.

“Any ideas?” Coran asks, appearing with my brother and I glance up.

“What kind of position was she found in…?” I gesture to the bloated woman in front of me.

“No particularly special way, her body was pretty much crammed into the space between the large lead pipe that ran along the sewage base and a wooden produce crate near the rear of the alley, just off Fordham street.” I nod my head a few times then turn my attention back to the body, but not before an obnoxious pair of gallies appear in my peripheral.

“Well, as I live and I breath, Kogane…?” The voice grates on my nerves and I sigh, lifting my head to see James with his hands resting on the inside of his braces. “Now what’s a nice kid like you, doin’ in a place like this then?” James never liked me…and I couldn’t say I was fond of the vazey cop myself. I slowly stand up and place my hands in my pockets, not giving the meater any words. “Didn’t know you weres back in these parts…fort we weres too grubby for ya.” I sigh again and look down to the body.

“Have you got anything useful to say…?” I look back to James’ smudgy face – the guy probably spent the night at the local brothel and rolled down to the crime scene once someone found him kipping in the back.

“Always fort you weres a big don…better than the rest of us, fink I got nothin’ good to say --!” He gets defensive. 

“I meant about the body…” My tone still sounded bored which I knew would just rile James up more. I raise a condescending eyebrow and allow a small self-indulgent smirk. “…you _are_ here to work…aren’t you?” I get a sneer in response and before James can say anything else, a heavy hand falls onto his shoulder, making him stand straighter. I peer to the side to see my brother give him a smile.

“James, you remember my brother, don’t you?” Shiro says, gesturing to me with a grin. James nods and…well, if looks could kill. “Keith, what are you thinking?” I look over to Coran then squat back down to inspect the body more closely. I point to the long laceration across the woman’s external jugular.

“Is this the only one?” I inquire, running my finger along the jagged line.

“Nope, we suspect at least six more lacerations across the body, probably all abouts the main arteries. We’ll have a doctor take a look later on and we’ll send the information over.” I acknowledge Coran’s response with another quick nod.

“Any more damage?”

“One more fing…” James’ thick East End accent cuts through the back chatter and he walks around to the head of the body, lightly nudging the woman’s head with his boot. “Top ova skull’s been peeled…strip taken off like a piece a sawney.” I move towards the head and gently move dirty brown hair out of the way, revealing an angry strip of flesh down the parting. As distasteful as James’ description was, it really did paint an accurate picture.

“Doesn’t make any sense…” My brother mutters under his breath and I gesture for him to go on, but he shrugs.

“Well…” I take over once more, standing up to adjust my coat and letting my scarf hang back down. “…an average human body holds about six quarts of blood; the efficiency of lacerations means that the body would have bled out in a matter of minutes. The more lacerations, the quicker the drainage, but it would also make the task harder to control. The lack of blood spillage on and around the body suggests that the person behind this was prepared and organised…and very much knew what they were doing…” I finish my analysis with an offhanded gesture. 

“She was completely drained of blood?” James asks appalled and looks down thoughtfully. “…could be a vampire?” He looks back to me and shrugs. I somehow manage to not roll my eyes and settle for a mute expression.

“Yes James, it could be vampires…” My sardonic tone putting a frown on my brother’s face. “…that’s it, you’ve done it, you’ve solved the case…gold star—”

“Keith…” The warning tone from my brother makes me pause and I let out a huff. I resume with the crime scene.

“Have you looked into medical professionals?” I direct my next question at Coran. 

“For help?” He rubs his chin in contemplation.

“No…I mean as suspects…” I point to the two other visible lacerations amongst the woman’s clothes. “Knowledge of these specific areas in order to obtain the most efficient amount of blood in the most efficient amount of time would come down to a sufficient amount of medical knowledge…most likely a doctor or physician—”

“Well if that’s the case, how come you know so much?” James butts in and I spare him a brief glance, but ignore the question.

“—The skin taken from the top of the head appears random from an individual case stand point but when put together with the other two bodies from earlier in the weeks, both of which I believe also contained some kind of random skin extraction, it actually starts to create a pattern. What that pattern is, I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s a reason for it.” I continue my analysis. 

“I don’t understand why we’re going so far out for a tail…I mean look at ‘er, she’s ‘ardly a toffer…” James crosses his arms over his chest and I let out another sigh. I’m starting to remember why I left this jurisdiction. “…some guy has a bit too much neck oil, he gets full up to the knocker and kills the lass…” He shrugs. “…simple.”

Yeah…because it’s always that simple…

“You think some thug _f_ _ull up to the knocker_ brandished a knife and carefully lacerated six integral arteries around the woman’s body whilst simultaneously making sure not a single drop fell to the ground or onto her clothes, purely because he was a _bit_ - _too_ - _drunk_?” My withered tone and abruptness cause a silence around the crime scene and I can tell my brother wants to get me back to somewhere I felt less inclined to run my mouth.

“Now boys…” Coran steps forward, his easy-going personality making me relax a little. “…Keith, anything else we should consider?” I take in the body once more.

“The only other thing to take into account is that the body will stop all blood flow after death. The heart stops pumping and that means making these lacerations in some areas won’t be as effective. The blood will start to coagulate, becoming thick and lumpy. Given, we don’t know what the person wants the blood for, but I imagine that they wouldn’t consider that a successful…batch.” I take in my brother’s expression, which appears slightly concerned but he gestures for me to continue. “…Rigor mortis will then begin to set in, making the body stiff, cell activity ceases and you stop breathing.”

“You sure do know ya stuff, Kogane…” James takes a step back and I ignore him once again.

“So, what are you saying?” Coran frowns and I sigh, not expecting to explain my point.

“He’s saying…” Shiro decides to take over for me. “…that the person who did this would have had to keep her alive whilst he was draining her…” He says the words low.

“Oh…any idea ho--” I interrupt Coran's question.

“He could have done it in a number of ways, but right now…” I shrug. “…I don’t know.”

“Well, okay then…” Coran looks to me and my brother, gesturing back out into the street. “I have to thank you again Keith, Shiro…” He nods to my brother by my side. “…I’ll handle the scene from here, tell Hunk to gather as many medical school graduate records as he can, and we’ll start there in terms of suspects. Let Keith take a look at the previous two cases in more detail and we’ll get the ball rollin’ on this.”

I give the body one last look and start to turn away when I hear a guttural snark beside me. I look up to see James smiling, his hands in his pockets.

“It’s funny…” I raise an unimpressed eyebrow at his untimely statement. Funny? “…dead whore in the streets and it’s probably the longest you’ve actually ever looked at a woman’s body.” I don’t give the ass-hole the satisfaction of raising to the bait, my temper a lot more under control than it used to be. I begin to turn away again…but he just won't stop talking. “Well, I’m sorry if I offended you Nancy boy…” I stop in my tracks and take a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh and remove my hat.

I turn around and punch James in the face… He stumbles back and I shake my knuckle a few times…

“Alright…” I say as I turn to my brother and put my hat back on. “…let’s go…”

 

Shiro and I leave the heed of people behind and make our way back towards the police station. We get inside the Benz and I light a new cigarette.

“Well that was…pretty much as I expected.” I flick the match out of the side of the car and turn to my brother, his words only slightly accusatory. 

“Did I not perform to your expectations.” Shiro sighs at my tone and shakes his head.

“No Keith, you were…amazing as usual, it’s where you excel, that’s why I asked you to come back. You’re good at this kind of thing…” I raise an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Excessive murder?”

“No…mysteries, puzzles…things that just don’t fit into the ordinary everyday of things.” I make an ‘oooh’ expression with my face whilst taking another drag of the cigarette.

“So, what’s the next course of action?” Shiro takes off his hat and runs fingers through his hair, the premature grey sticking up at odd ends.

“I need to get Hunk to start on those medical graduate records and have you look over the other cases. That way we can see if the patterns you suggested could start matching up.”

“Think I could take a look at the Aldgate case as well?” I ask. Shiro puts his hat back on and his eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“You think they _are_ related?” I shrug at his alarmed response and watch the city go by in various shades of grey and brown.

“Never know…”

“Okay, well yeah, that should be fine…after that we need to head down to The Altea—”

“The brothel?” I didn’t mean say it so dejectedly, letting Shiro in on how much I didn’t want to go there.

“Yeah, Keith, the brothel…I can go on my own if—”

“No, it’s fine…Allura still the Madam?” Shiro nods his head. That’s something I guess – I always _did_ like Allura.

“I thought we could ask her if she had any information about the girls. I don’t think any of them worked there anymore but I know a couple of them did at some point. Allura always made it a point to keeping an eye on all her girl, even after they left the sanctuary of the brothel itself.”

“You think she’ll know anything?” I ask with little hope. Keeping track of girls in this city is harder than it sounds. 

“Don’t know, even if it’s just a couple of regular clients…areas they liked to work – anything by this point could help a little.” My brother sounded far more confident than I felt.

“True…”

 

We get back to the police station and as soon as we make it through the door I can hear the screaming from the back of the room. We walk up to the front desk and I lean against the dark wood.

“How’d it go…?” Hunk’s chipper tone is interrupted by a high pitch screech.

“That ol’ hedge creeper stole me corner…” A woman spits at the feet of a copper holding her upper arm. “…get ya hands off me ya ratbag!!” I watch as the prostitute is taken out the back and the small increment of peace washes over me…until it’s replaced by something else.

“It was good, Keith gave us a lot to think about…" Shiro goes on, ignoring the interruption. "I actually have a job for you Hunk.” He leans over the desk and explains everything I’d deduced in the past hour and Hunk smiles politely, heading down the corridor to start getting everything we needed. Shiro gestures for me to leave the main hall and I’m more than happy to oblige.

We head into the smaller office, a recent new addition for Shiro since he was promoted to head detective. Next is Sergeant, something I have no doubt my brother will make as soon as Coran realises his potential.

“It’s nice…” I say more on formality, then close the door behind me, taking in the bare walls and few photographs on his desk.

“Thanks…” My brother smirks at my attempt at civility and settles down. He takes a moment then looks up at me, gesturing for me to follow his lead. I remove my hat and throw my coat over the back of my chair. “Look, about what James said—” I hold a hand up to stop him, using my other to pick up a framed photo from the desk – it was of me and Shiro with our parents…well, Shiro’s parents…

“It’s fine Shiro, I’m a police officer, I get called worse on a daily basis…” I tell him more to lessen the risk of an oncoming lecture. Shiro sighs – mainly because he knows it’s true – then frowns lightly. I put the frame back down and purposefully face it away, so I didn’t have to look at it.

“So why did you have to punch him?” He asks and I shrug.

“Principles…?” Shiro raises an eyebrow, seemingly unconvinced that I gave another constable a blinker purely because I considered myself of high ideologies.

 _“Principles_ \--?” He repeats my excuse incredulously. 

“Or maybe, just because he was a bit of a ratbag…” I smile lightly, using the insult I heard tottered out of the prostitute’s mouth. My brother sighs…again.

“Anyway—” Shiro stops as there’s a knock at the door so I turn around and see Hunk’s smiling face appear from behind the glass panel.

“The case files you asked for, Sir.” Hunk walks inside the office and hands Shiro two thin stacks of paper.

“Thanks Hunk…” The other copper leaves and Shiro drops the tiny files in front of me. I look down and raise my eyebrows, the sarcastic contribution on the tip of my tongue.

“Jeez Shiro, how will I ever find the time to go through them all…” I pick them up and quickly look over the few photographs that were taken at the crime scenes and the description of how the bodies were found. Both consisted of similar lacerations but clearly not as perfected as the last victims – almost like the guy was learning more as he went along…

“I know it’s not much but…Anything?” I look up at my brother, then back to the photographs. Both women were drained dry of blood and each had a seemingly random strip of skin removed.

“I’ll think about it…do you have the Aldgate case?”

“That’ll have to wait…” My brother stands from his desk and puts his hat back on. “We need to head to The Altea before nightfall, don’t really want to interrupt their busiest time of day.”

“Oh, well yeah…” My voice turns colder and I put my coat back on, adjusting the collar of my shirt under the tight waistcoat. “God forbid we interrupt all the beautiful moments that will occur inside the work house this evening.” Shiro makes no comment at my attitude and we head back outside.

 

The Altea was one of the more high-end brothels in the city – as high end as a whore house can be – so the inside consisted of elaborate furnishings, silks and flowers. They appear to be expecting us and so we’re welcomed rather wholeheartedly into the front lobby. Shiro removes his hat like the gentleman he is and elbows me in the side, a not so subtle way of telling me to do the same.

“Madame will be down in a moment…” A scantily dressed woman says, smiling before leaving us alone to wait for Allura.

“She’s redecorated…” I mention, looking up at the deep pink walls and the dark wood bordering the flowery paper.

“How astute of you detective.” I elbow Shiro back and he sniggers.

“Shiro!” My brother stiffens slightly at the shrill call of his name and I turn to see a beautiful woman dressed in light blue silks, slinking into the room like a cat. “I didn’t know you were coming to visit.” The woman drags a finger lightly down my brother’s good arm then quickly turns her attention to me. “And who do we have here…you brought us a present?”

“Nyma, this is my brother, Keith.” Shiro gestures to his side and Nyma moves to stand in front of me, her long dark hair shaping her heart shaped face.

“Nice to meet you Keith…” She says it sweetly and her eyes travel, not so subtly, up and down my body. I shove my hands into my pockets and focus hard on not rolling my eyes. “…I didn’t know Shiro had a brother…are you a detective too?” It was a well-known fact that coppers were just as frequent a visitors to brothels as anyone else, and sometimes even more so…coppers also had money that a lot of working class people didn’t. I don’t answer her question because I already know my brother will answer it for me, in fear of appearing rude.

“Keith’s been working out West…he’s here for a special case…” He says it with a hint of pride. Nyma lifts a delicate finger and runs it down the front of my chest.

“Aren’t you a little pretty to be a copper?” She asks and I raise an eyebrow, grabbing her hand gently and dropping it to her side.

“Aren’t you a little inquisitive to be a whore?” My words seem to surprise her, and she frowns. I can already feel my brother gearing up to chastise me, but he’s interrupted by a light spout of laughter that sings down the stairwell.

“Keith, sweetheart…” Allura reaches the lobby and her bright silver hair shimmers in the dimly lit room. “…you really haven’t changed at all, have you?” Nyma steps back at the arrival of the Madame. “Nyma…” The woman in question gives Allura her full attention. “…best get back to work…” She looks over to me and a fond expression covers her beautiful features. “…I guarantee Keith won’t want what you’re offering.”

 

 

Allura leads us into a back room which holds more elaborate furniture. She gestures to the furnished chair and turns to light some candles, making the room a little brighter.

“Now…” She starts and I run the rim of my hat through my fingers, already counting down the minutes until we can leave. “…what can I do for you gentleman?” Allura turns her attention onto me and I make sure not to shrink under her gaze. One of few men who probably manage it. “How have you been Keith?”

“Fine…” I answer quickly and she knows me well enough to know it was about as much as she’d get.

“Glad to hear it.” I can feel her eyes roaming the features of my face. “It really is a shame…if you were a woman, I’d make quite the penny from you.” Her comment makes my stomach turn and I can tell Shiro senses my discomfort.

“We’re here to talk about the murders that have scattered the East end…” Shiro changes the subject, successfully holding Allura’s attention, and I relax a little.

“How many women?”

“Three…” Shiro gives her an apologetic look but continues. “…one more earlier this morning. They’re not simple either, we believe them to be related and chances are…whoever committed these…” Shiro dwindles off.

“--will likely commit more.” I’m more than happy to finish off for him in my usual wry tone. Allura raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“That would explain Keith’s sudden appearance.” She turns to me again.

“I guess it would…” I keep my tone clipped but she smiles at my blunt response none-the-less, crossing one slim leg over the other.

“And where do I come into this?” I could tell she enjoyed it when I contributed to the conversation, so I decided to humor her.

“Bait?” I threw the suggestion out, only half serious. 

“—Keith!” Shiro gives me another incredulous look and I shrug. Allura’s pretty laughter fills the room again and we both turn our heads forward.

“Funny…say, Keith?” She stands up from her seat and makes her way around the ornate table separating herself from us. She stands in front of me and I look up, feeling long fingers and sharp painted finger nails graze the edge of my chin, dipping my head ever so slightly to the side. “I wish I could offer something to put a smile on that face…” She removes her fingers and smiles down at me.

“I appreciate the sentiment…but I highly doubt there’s anything in this house that’ll interest me…” I tell her as she grazes my cheek one last time, more affectionate than I was used to. She turns to go sit back down and I watch her long dress drape over the hard-wooden floor as she goes.

“I suppose we’ll see about that…” Once she’s settled back down, Shiro clears his throat and I sit back slightly, more than done with the amount of attention I’ve gotten inside this building.

“Allura, we’re here for any information you could give us on the women…” Shiro gets three pieces of paper from his inside pocket and tentatively passes them along the table. Allura picks them up and her face takes on a more somber expression. “You knew them all?” Shiro asks and she nods.

“Yes…I knew Alexa quite well especially…she lived here for a portion of last year…” Allura explains and I sit up slightly. 

“We just need some idea as to who they might have been seeing, any clients they have on the regular or…locations they worked at frequently?” Shiro’s tone is soft, one of many reasons why he was good at this part of the job.

“I’m afraid I don’t think I can help you…” I frown a little at her response but don’t let it surprise me too much – who can keep an eye on every Judy in town. “…but I think I know someone who can…”

“Who…?” Shiro sits forward and I run fingers through my hair, the stuffy air in the room making me feel tired after the day we’d had.

“He’s good at getting me information when I need it…” Allura says vaguely. 

“A welsher?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as I lean forward.

“In a sense…” Allura smiles at me and turns towards the back of the room. “Pidge!!” Shiro and I share a look. A door in the far corner opens and a small girl appears, short brown hair and glasses. She looked far too young to work here so I assume she must either be a daughter of a Judy, or your faithful artful dodger.

“Yeah?” The young girl asks as her eyes shift over the room, briefly taking in myself and Shiro, then back to the Madame.

“Is Lance still here?” Allura says the name with more affection and I closely take in the interaction between the Madame and this…Pidge. The girl seems to sigh and roll her eyes, something no worker would dare do in front of Allura.

“Yeah…” She sounded bored by the conversation. “He was about to head back out…want me to go get him?” It was obvious Pidge didn’t want to, but she was still clearly more than aware of where she stood when under this roof.

“Yes…tell him I’ve got a job for him.” Allura instructs Pidge and the girl nods, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

“This Lance any good?” My brother asks and Allura turns back to us, standing from her chair.

“He is the best at what he does…”

“And what does Lance do?” Shiro inquires as we both stand up, getting ready to leave and head back to the police station. Allura laughs lightly again.

“Invariably…whatever Lance wants to do.” Just as Shiro and I begin making our way towards the exit, there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Allura settles herself between the door and ourselves as it opens, revealing a tall man on the other side. He was maybe a little younger than myself, with dark tanned skin and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.

“You rang?” So, this was Lance. He smiles and for a minute I was able to forget the dimly lit room I so desperately wanted to leave. He steps into the space and lets his gaze settle onto my brother.

“Lance…” Allura steps forward and gestures to us. “…this is detective Shiro—” Lance immediately raises his hands and…there’s that smile again.

“Whatever they said I did, I didn’t do unless for some reason it turned around in that person's favour and they actually want to thank me.” He says it quickly, raising his eyebrows and I have to stop the smirk that almost spills onto my face.

“Arms down Lance…I need you to help these men get some information.” Allura gestures for him to relax.

“Oh…” Lance lowers his arms and shrugs. “No problem!”

“Now Shiro is an old friend, so I need you to behave.” Lance pouts slightly at Allura's words and puts a hand to his chest.

“Allura, you almost make it sound like I’m difficult…” I look at Lance’s outfit which didn’t suggest a whole lot of money. Everything was wearing thin but fit well, designed for blending in but good for nimble movements, no doubt hiding a slender but toned body underneath. It was a typical ex-street kid build – part of the reason I was surprised by how well-spoken he came across.

“Well, you’re not easy, that’s for sure…” He shrugs and smirks in Allura’s direction.

“Really, that depends—” The Madame interrupts his next comment.

“Lance!” 

“Fine, apologies ma’am…” Lance turns his attention back to Shiro and holds out a hand connected to slender, lithe fingers – perfect for pickpocketing. “It’s nice to meet you Shiro…Sir.” Shiro smiles and shakes his hand, and then Lance turns his attention to me. “And I assume you’re not just a pretty face?” It was times like this I was more than thankful for my ability to reveal nothing. It was a poker face to be reckoned with. Lance holds his hand out and I take it, warm slender fingers wrapping briefly around my own.

“Uh…this is my brother, Keith.” Shiro pipes up when he realizes I’ve decided to remain silent. It was a dynamic we fell into quite early on.

“It’s nice to meet you Keith.” That smile again.

“Lance…” Allura gets his attention and he turns back to her, the interruption letting my shoulders relax slightly without his gaze. “…I will inform you of said information and I would like you to report back to Shiro and Keith.” Allura turns her attention back to my brother. “He will make sure the information gets to you.”

“Thank you, Allura…” Shiro smiles and we start towards the door.

“It was nice to see you both again…Keith.” I look up as she says my name and I nod my head as a goodbye. I just wanted to leave.

“It was nice to meet you!” Lance raises a hand and my brother smiles back. Ever the nicer sibling. “I look forward to working closely with you both.” I glance over my shoulder and catch Lance’s eye, the blue still just as intense as when he first walked into the room. “I hope I actually get to hear you talk at some point…Keith.” The sound of my name coming out of his mouth sends a small shock through my chest, but I hide it behind various walls I’d built up over time. I hear my brother begin to leave but remain stuck to the spot, holding my hand out towards Lance. He looks down a little confused.

“My watch…I’d like it back before I go…” A quick look of surprise passes over Lance’s face, but he hides it quickly and it’s replaced with one of those smiles that never seem to stop coming. I wait patiently as Lance removes my beaten-up pocket watch from inside his jacket and drops it into my hand. I don’t say anything. I place it back inside my coat and turn a quick glance back to Allura. “Thank you again, Madame.”

And then I leave the room, thankful to be able to finally breath…

 


	2. The Thimble Twister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying out for a chapter 2!  
> Thanks to everyone whose taken time to read whatever this is <3  
> Any feedback will be sooooo appreciated! 
> 
> Glossary still in end notes...

(Keith POV)

“Mr Kogane!?” There’s a sharp knock at the door so I quickly cover the graphic photos in front of me. Something tells me the nice old lady won’t appreciate a lot of my work.

“Yes…come in…” I raise my voice to be heard through the thin wooden door. It opens and Mrs Buttery walks in with a cup of tea and a piece of bread, her thick cockney accent strangely homely.

“Hello, I fort maybe you’d like somethin’ to drink, you’ve been workin’ up ‘ere for quite a while.” I smile up at her and watch her place the jittery tea cup beside my growing stack of papers. “Quite the workaholic you are, hmmm, Mr Kogane?” I let out a small huff of air, the older woman not really knowing the half of it.

“Thank you, for the tea…Mrs Buttery…” I smile politely.

“That’s a ‘Ms’ now young man, eh?” She lets out a light cackle and gives me a wink before letting herself out. I decided to stay as a tenant whilst I was staying down East rather than with my brother, purely because I knew he didn’t have the room. Plus, there’s only so much time I can spend with his overly optimistic disposition. I sit back in my chair and let out a long sigh. Looking around the room, it wasn’t much, with yellow flowery wallpaper and a single bed in the centre of the tiny space. But it was enough…worth not taking me out of pocket just to stay close to the crime scene. 

I lean forward and rest my chin in my palm, looking over the photographs for what felt like the millionth time this past hour. I told Shiro I’d look over the three cases along with a load of the medical graduate records by this afternoon. It’s been two days since we went to visit Allura and we’re hoping to hear back from Lance sooner rather than later – something I’ve tried hard not to think about over the past 48 hours. Without knowing what any of these women were doing before they died, none of these names meant anything. The city consisted of hundreds of medical professionals, basically only allowing me to begin narrowing it down via ‘who does Keith think looks kinda shady…’

This is stupid…

I put down the list of names and begin to scribble down everything I’ve managed to put together thus far. I’ve decided that I don’t think the locations of the women have a connection and therefore it’ll come down to the process and condition of the body which should point me in the right direction – that direction being: motive.

Shiro gave me a copy of the Aldgate case but at the moment there’s absolutely nothing in it which suggests it has any connection to the Judies. The thirteen-year-old was found cut from throat to groan, splayed out and tied across the Aldgate pump. He wasn’t drained of any blood, no sign of any part of the boy being taken away. It was either a totally unrelated case which just happened to fall alongside an equally disturbing array of murders, or…there’s something I’m missing…

But I never miss anything…

I pick up the tea and take a sip, it was slightly milkier than I’d usually like, but I hardly had the time to care. I look at the three women, each with a separate piece of skin peeled off the body, each drained completely of blood.

‘Date of Death Stated:  **15 th **day of **September 1896  
**Name of Deceased: **Miss** **Alexa Coppermeld**  
Manner of Death: **HOMOCIDE**  
Reason for Death as Stated: **Exsanguination** (Significant loss of blood)  
  
Pathologist’s notes:

(Wounds and marks)  
Total of six lacerations consisting of long straight cuts along the Jugular, severing Right and Left Subclavian Artery, Radial Artery on both Right and Left wrists, Femoral Arteries on Left and Right Thigh, Right Common Iliac Artery

2 inch x 5 inch shallow extraction of flesh from roof of Cranial Cavity

Minor contusions on Neck and wrists’

It didn’t really make any sense, cutting through both the subclavian Arteries alone would be enough for her to bleed out in minutes, why go to the trouble of the other 5 lacerations. Altogether seven arteries were actually cut, meaning way more blood for one person to consistently manage – unless they weren’t alone? I look over the other autopsy reports of the two women prior before and the only difference is the section of skin removed. Miss Elizabeth Collins had a similar sized strip removed from just above her breasts and Miss Mary Fanchurch had a strip removed from her mid-section. None of the locations of the skin are seemingly related by this point.

It sounded horrible but…the only way this can start to make more sense…is if more women die…

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, the dark tufts sticking up all over the place. Trying to put yourself in the mind of someone who was sick enough to pull something like this off wasn’t part of the job I enjoyed…but it was a part I was good at.

Three random women, meaning the man is probably a mere opportunist. He may go out to find someone to kill, but it doesn’t mean he’s fussy. Assuming the reason he goes after prostitutes is a state of hypocritical morals, or a mere distaste for the profession would be a too obvious an approach. An involuntary hermit with mother issues is more likely…but still doesn’t help narrow down the list of suspects. The knowledge used in the process isn’t exactly few and far between, heck, even I knew it. I was never trained in the medical profession, but life hasn’t ceased to present the circumstances for me to learn about it. With that in mind…anyone could know where to cut…it was the technique and skill behind the cuts that suggested it was a doctor…of some sorts. In addition, with each body found together within easy walking distance of The Royal London Hospital…it only made the theory that bit stronger.

I sigh again and look up at the clock. I told Shiro I’d meet him back at the precinct by three o’clock, but I didn’t exactly have a whole lot of news to take with me. I look over at the bread and feel a nauseous pull in my stomach…

I needed to stop looking at these pictures…

 

I place my hat on and head outside, the streets cold but no less busy than they would have been two months ago. I tip my hat further down so that it covers my eyes and shove my hands in my pockets. I feel eyes staring, all the time, eyes were staring. The police were either here to take or they’ll come _back_ to take… there was no other reason for a copper to exist. Whether he was taking for good, or taking for his own selfish evils…a copper was only there to make other’s lives harder…

At least…that’s the impression I got…

Whether I solved these murders or not, it doesn’t make any difference, people don’t actually believe you’re here to protect them. I look up and breath in the slightly cleaner air. My lodgings were only a short walk to Leman Street and so I decide to stick to the main path, stalls and carts selling fruit and groceries past their due. A loud set of shouts grab my attention from the other end of the road and a stiff shoulder bumps me from the opposite direction…

I hated London…

“Excuse me Sir!?” I stop for a moment and look down by my side to see a small boy holding his hands out. “Spare any change good Sir?” The kid was clearly hungry with his torn clothes hanging from thin wrists. My thoughts travel back to the piece of bread left on my side dresser and my chest clenches. I take a few coins out of my pocket and drop them wordlessly into the boy’s hand. “Fanks a lot Mr!!” The kid runs off, no doubt to pass the money over to his kidsman anyway, there weren’t many children who took to the streets alone anymore.

I continue walking until I see the familiar blue lamp posts, the station sat idle in the midst of a crowded street. I walk up the steps and kick the door open lightly with my boot. It was quieter than usual; the late afternoon having pushed everyone onto the dimming streets outside. I walk up to the front desk and take off my hat.

“Hunk…” I address the smiling constable and he looks up from his own cup of tea.

“Keith! How’s it going, haven’t seen you in a couple of days, how’s the investigation goin’?” I let out a sigh at his question and make a half-assed attempt at fixing my hair.

“It’s going…” I shrug and remove my gloves, briefly gesturing to the quieter than normal hall. “Slow day today?” Hunk rests a hand on his cheek and sighs – a noise I didn’t hear from him very often.

“I guess so, fitful bludger this mornin’ who went after the can down Shadwell…” Hunk relays the news and I wince. 

“He alright?” I ask, 

“Who, the bludger or the barman?” Hunk chuckles and I roll my eyes at the question.

“The criminal…" I reply dryly. "I’ve got a soft spot for men and heavy blunt objects.” My familiar wry tone makes Hunk smile and he winks at me.

“Yeah, I bet you do…” I let out a small laugh at that and Hunk knocks me lightly on the shoulder. “Seriously though, old cans alright…apart from that we had couple kids caught snowing down near the old Spitalfields Market.” I smirk. Snowing was a term used to describe when petty thieves go along stealing linen drying on the lines.

“Good times…” I smile as I say it and Hunk nods in agreement.

“Good times indeed Sir…” I take a deep breath and gesture down the hall.

“Is my brother here?” It was a silly question really, since peering at the clock above tells me that _I’m_ the one who’s twenty minutes late.

“Yeah, he’s been waitin’ for a little while…also there’s a guest so best keep the ol’ Keith comments to a minimum.” A guest? I give Hunk a nod in thanks and head down the dark hallway. “Keep goin’ Sir, I think he’s in with the back records.” I hold up a hand without turning around and offer a quick glance into Shiro’s office, it’s empty contents telling me Hunk must be right. I get to the end of the hall and hear the chattering of a couple of people inside, one was clearly my brother, so I push the door open without prompt.

“Keith!” My brother exclaims and smiles up at me, quickly standing from one of the metal chairs in front of a table scattered with papers. “You’re not usually one to keep me waiting.” I don’t respond right away, instead my eyes travel to the other body in the room. Heavy, worn boots were attached to long legs that rested idly on the edge of the table.

Someone’s made himself at home…

I risk passing my eyes over Lance’s face and curse silently when the smile makes my heart skip.

“Sorry…” I say and turn my attention back to my brother without showing any acknowledgment of Lance – even though it would have been impossible not to.

“No problem…” My brother pats me affectionately on the back and closes the door behind us. “Keith, Lance came here to inform us of some information he was able to acquire. He got here not long before you, actually.” I hear the sound of boots hitting the ground and lift my eyes to see Lance stand in greeting, his hands resting lazily in his pockets.

“Keith! The man of few words, and…” He steps forward, his words bold and teasing. “…even fewer smiles.” He makes a mocking pouty face and I turn to sit at the other end of the table, removing my coat.

“What is this information then?” I somehow manage to keep my tone as flat and familiar as possible, then catch my brother give Lance a small apologetic smile. It says ‘I apologize for my brother, he has no social skills…’ but Lance just seems to shrug and looks over to me...

Does he ever stop smiling…?

“Well, yes, Lance…now we’re all here, let us in on what you found.” Shiro keeps his tone light and gestures for Lance to take his seat before taking his own at the head of the table. I lean back in the chair and let my arms rest across my chest. Lance sits down across from me and leans his elbows on the table, crossing his arms, ready to divulge this…information…

“So, I looked into all three women that Allura told me: Miss Collins, Miss Fanchurch and the most recently deceased…Miss Coppermeld. All three women worked the Chapel and had no, to put it bluntly, morally redeeming features –”

“Shocking…" My sarcastic words drag Lances eyes to mine. "So you’re telling me…that the fulltime prostitute workers didn’t join the All Saints Sisterhood in their free time?” I tilt my head to the side and silently ask myself why I bothered commenting at all.

“Keith…” My brother’s warning tone contrasts with the smirk on Lance’s face.

“Yes, detective, that is exactly what I’m saying. May I continue?” I shrug but say nothing. “…Before I was so rudely interrupted…” Lance makes a point to keep eye contact with me before turning his attention back to my brother. “…all of them worked shifts on the back alleys, Elizabeth had a reputation at the tavern down by Mile End park. Some mouth told me she made a livin’ as an easy buck but turned mutcher after they’d had a little too much to drink– “

So, she waited out the hours and stole from drunks…not uncommon…

“- Mary lived until last year in a bordello up Bermondsey but got kicked out due to her lack of…” Lance waves his hand out nonchalantly. “…custom. Turned out the abbess found out she had Syphilis, so she was out…supposed to go into a lock hospital, but obviously she never made it that far. Alexa was the easiest because I knew her, she lived at The Altea not that long ago…” Lance’s face drops for a fraction of a second, but he hides it just as quick. “…she was actually trying to get out of the game, met a nice fellow – former client – they was gonna save up and move to the country…guess that’s out of the question now though.” Lance leans back in his chair and my brother stands from his seat.

“That’s impressive Lance...” My brother beams.

“Thanks, info’s what I do—"

“ _Impressive_ …” My brother and Lance’s eyes fall to me when I speak. “…but hardly of any use in the circumstances, we needed names and you haven’t given us any.” I hear my brother sigh but don’t let the situation change my usual approach. “A thief, a venereal disease and a domestic dream…nothing I can use in this case.”

“I think what Keith is trying to say is –” 

“No…” Lance interrupts my brother, raising a hand and giving me a tight smile. “…I know what he’s saying. With all due _respect_ , Mr Kogane…I didn’t come down here to help out a couple of Jacks out of the kindest of my heart. I’ve got shit to do, so you can take the information and use it…or quite kindly shove it up your ass.” He sits back in his seat and I think I’ve actually managed to get a scowl out of him. For some reason, I felt a small spark of accomplishment…

What the hell is wrong with me?

“The information gives us good background –” Shiro tries to save the conversation but I interrupt him this time.

“No, Shiro…” I look to him. “…I need names, there were over five-hundred names on that document you and Hunk gave me. How the hell am I supposed to narrow it down without more –”

“What’s on the list?” I stop talking and look over to Lance, his question throwing me off. I’d assumed he’d just had enough and was gonna leave.

“Medical graduates.” I cross my arms again and let out a sigh.

“You think it was a doctor?” Lance asks but I don’t say anything for a moment. My brother stays silent, knowing this was my territory for discussion. I take a moment to glance over Lance’s sharp features, the angle of his jawline and the dip of his nose.

I try really hard not to look into his eyes…

“Yes…” I notice Shiro’s eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly, half expecting me to tell Lance to forget it and get out. “…the skill portrayed behind the straight cut lacerations, alongside the knowledge of where to cut, suggests a reasonable amount of medical knowledge and practice.” Part of me wonders why I was telling him any of this…it wasn’t _his_ job, but I continue, part of me relishing in Lances eyes on mine. “…if we can find a connection between one of these Judies and someone with a medical background then it will be a start. So far, they’re just three completely unrelated bodies that are next for the eternity box.

There’s a silence after I finish, and I start to wonder if I’m wasting my time…

“I can get names for you…” I raise an eyebrow at Lances confidence and watch him smile. “A couple days - I’ll try find a doctor in there somewhere.”

“That would be extremely helpful, Lance! Thank you… _Keith_ …” My brother gives me a stern look. “… _wouldn’t_ that be helpful?” I roll my eyes at the way he was treating the situation – I was a cop, it wasn’t my job to be polite. I’m about to open my mouth when there’s a knock at the door. Hunk’s head appears and smiles apologetically.

“Shiro, Sir…that scary lady’s back again.” Hunk informs Shiro and he nods his head.

“No problem, Hunk…I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks…” Hunk lets go of the door and waves into the room. “Oh, hey Lance!”

“Hey, Hunk!” Lance leans forward and smiles brightly at our seemingly mutual friend. “How’s it going?” Shiro gets up to leave and Hunk shifts to the side.

“Good, good…” Hunk’s eyes travel to me, but he doesn’t lose any of his initial perkiness. “Keith, buddy…” He looks between us both. “How’s it going in here?” Lance and I share a look and it’s not the most buddy buddy atmosphere I’ve ever been a part of.

“Fine—” We both say it at the same time and Hunk chuckles.

“Awww, I knew you guys would get on.” With that, Hunk lets himself out, Shiro close at his heels. Before he leaves the room, my brother turns around and points at us both.

“Both of you just…don’t kill each other until I get back, got it?” And then he leaves the room, leaving me alone with Lance. There’s an awkward silence that fills the space between us and I lean my head back. Part of me was pleased at how the conversations gone and the other part was just annoyed at how I always seem to have to be an ass. I look across the table and see Lance, arms folded across his chest.

“So how do you know Hunk?” I don’t know why I ask it, to an extent I can see how they’d get on. They’re both naturally very charismatic people – unlike myself.

“Got some information for him a few times…” I nod my head slowly at his answer.

“Right, ‘cause, you know…” I look him in the eye and allow a small smirk. “…info’s what you do…” Lance actually laughs as a response and we fall into a slightly more comfortable silence. I start to think maybe I shouldn’t have listened to Shiro and should have just killed Lance and gotten it over with.

It’ll make all these stupid jumpy feelings disappear…

Lance suddenly leans further across the table with his arms folded and looks me in the eye. He was frowning lightly as if he was struggling to figure something out.

“How come I haven’t seen you around here before?” He asks abruptly. His head dips to the side and I admire how the small tufts of hair fall gradually into his eyes. “I’ve built a reputation on never forgetting a face…and I’d know if I’d seen yours before.” I resist the urge to lean forward and meet Lance half way, so I remain leant back in my chair.

“I haven’t lived in the East End for a few years now, I’m only back for this case…then I’ll probably go back West.” Lance nods in understanding.

“Fair enough…can I ask another question?” I let out a sigh.

“If I say no…will you stop?” Lance seems to think about this.

“Yes…” His answer actually surprises me, wondering whether he’s just saying that…

“Then no…” I tell him and Lance smiles again, an odd response to basically being told to stop talking. He holds his hands up in mock surrender and leans back in his chair.

“That’s fair…you know, you act like this mysterious mean guy…but I can tell, deep down…you’re a big ol’ softy.” I raise a skeptical eyebrow and can’t resist finally leaning forward, my arms stretched across the cold metal surface.

“Is that so…and how are you so confident in that little…psychoanalysis?” Lance seems pleased that I’ve asked and leans his body forward again so that we’re just inches apart.

“Glad you asked…” His eyes quickly flicker down to the table then back up, searching my own eyes for something – but I’m not sure what he expects to find. “One hundred and twenty-three people…” I frown, no idea what the hell he was talking about.

“What…?” I ask and Lance bites his bottom lip, setting my heart off again.

“One hundred and twenty-three people…" He says it slower this time. "...that kid you gave your pocket change to earlier, he’d been on that street all day. That’s how many people he’d asked before you…and you were the first to hand over anything…” His voice had gone quieter and I knew my expression showed disbelief.

“How –how could you possibly know that…?”

“Well, because I asked him, and he told me…it’s important they keep track –” Lance explains but I still don't understand. 

“That doesn’t make any sense…” We were still closer than I’d like but I make no effort to move away. I look down and shake my head. “Well it’s not like it’ll make a difference, doubt the kid will get to keep any of it…”

“On the contrary…” Lance frowns and gestures his hand out, his chin resting in the other. “…I make sure all my boys get to keep their beggin’s.” My eyes widen, and I quickly turn it into a blank expression.

“You’re a kidsman…" I say it with a level of astonishment - I quickly hide that too. "...Makes sense I suppose. Who better to teach pickpockets than a hook himself?”

“You know…” Lance doesn’t take his eyes off mine. “…Jacks are some of the least gracious of people out there…you’re quite the little surprise, Keith…” I ignore the comment and decide to ask a question of my own.

“So, you take _no_ cuts?” I raise my eyebrows, my doubt obvious.

“Oh, I take a cut of the swag…but a chavy’s beggin’ money is his well-earned.” I nod my head, eyes still on his. Most kidsman weren’t nearly as generous. If the man gave them a place to sleep, he was generally entitled to everything they made. Lance lets his boys keep their beggings _and_ a cut of the stolen goods. “My boys only steal from the rich and the self-entitled –”

“Well aren’t you just raising London’s own little flock of Robin Hoods…” Lance sniggers. “You used to work the streets yourself?”

“Thimble-Twister by day… Christening Jack by night…” From my work in the East End I knew a Thimble-Twister was an expert pickpocket of pocket-watches, and a Christening Jack was someone who made a living off scratching off the engravings, so the watches could be resold.

“You were good then?” Lance smiles wider and my eyes shift to the dimple at the corner of his cheek. I sit back a little when Lance brings his free hand up and lets a chain fall loose, suspended and swinging between us.

And at the bottom of the chain was my pocket-watch…

“How the hell –?” I frown and put my hand out, Lance immediately dropping it into my palm. “I didn’t even go near you…” I could tell Lance was more than enjoying my dumbfounded expression, which, to be fair, wasn’t an expression many people witnessed.

“Nobody ever notices, nobody ever has a clue until they get home and their pockets are empty… except for you. I have to be honest, you threw me a little the other night when you asked for it back…” He shrugs and folds his arms back on the table. “…I just had to give it another go.” I run my thumb over the faded engraving. “I’ve handled a lot of watches in my time, you learn to know which ones are sentimental and which are just plain expensive… yours is clearly well-loved…” I look up at him and my eyes find deep, ocean blue.

“It was my fathers…” Why did I say that?

“Were you close with him?” I put the watch away and stand from my chair.

“No…” My voice was quiet, and I look away when the door opens, Shiro sighing as he comes back into the room.

“Sorry about that, the woman was complaining about the bo—” My brother turns around and falls silent, clearly picking up on the change of atmosphere since he was last in the room. “How did you get on?”

“We were ju---”

“Fine…” I interrupt Lance and put my coat on, more than ready to leave. “Lance will find us some names.” I don’t spare him another glance and head out the door. I let out a breath as I finally get into the dim hallway and feel my watch buried deep inside my coat pocket.

How the hell did he do it?

I turn into the hall and notice a tall figure hunched over the front desk, he was saying something to Hunk and you could tell the smiling copper was uncomfortable with the conversation. I step further into the room and Hunk notices me, his eyes lighting up a little.

“Keith!” At the sound of my name, the other figure stands straighter and turns around. I really did a number on James’ face the other day, a deep purple black smudge around his right eye.

I really didn’t have the energy to deal with this right now…

“Still around then, shame…” James makes his way towards me and makes sure to get in my face. “…I was kinda hopin’ you’d a been run outta the city by a couple a mugs by now…” I take a deep breath and try to get past, not giving him a word of acknowledgment. Before I can, a rough palm whacks into my chest, stopping me in my tracks. “Look fairy…” The name makes me clench my fists and I look down. “…if you think I’m just gonna let you humiliate me like that and not—” James stops suddenly and takes a step back. I’m about to look up when I feel a warm and slender arm land across my shoulders.

“James! I wasn’t aware you worked at the Leman St station…actually, come to think of it, I wasn’t aware you worked at all?” Lance’s voice makes the anger disappear almost immediately, but his proximity made my heartrate spike even more than before. I glance to the side and see his long, nimble fingers rest lazily over my other shoulder.

“Lance? What are you doin’ ‘ere?” So, James knew Lance too? Does everybody bloody know Lance?

“Well I’m here helping out my good friend Keith…” When he says my name, Lance squeezes my shoulders briefly and I begin to wonder why he’s doing this at all. “Say…” His voice turns inquisitive. “…that’s quite the blinker you’ve got yourself there, James…what happened, you’re half-mourning like a street badger…” James self-consciously runs a finger to brush his hair down over the black eye. “Hope you weren’t botherin’ those pretty ladies again, remember constable, no means no…”

“Funny Lance, but it was…” James looks at me briefly and the disgust on his face was obvious enough. “…just a fight…”

“A fight?” Lance’s tone was clearly mocking, faking concern, and I could tell James was getting more and more angry by the minute. “Did you win?” I can see the cogs moving in James’ head before the smirk falls onto his face.

“Hell yeah I won…you should see the other guy.”

“Really!?” Lance smiles and then shifts to look down at me. I make the mistake of glancing up and our eyes meet once again. His smile turns wider and I can feel the heat crawling up my neck. “Well…” Lance looks back to James. “…he looks pretty damn good to me.” James’ face falls and he swears at us both before taking a step away.

“Well I wouldn’t get too close if I weres you Lance…” My stomach drops because I knew exactly where this was going, for some reason James had made it his goal in life to make sure no one ever looks at me the same. “…Keith here strictly takes it up the nancy…wouldn’t want you fallin’ for mandrakes, now Lance…” I felt sick and feel Lance momentarily stiffen beside me. I keep my eyes to the floor and wish for the first time in a long time that my brother was there to help me. I know I told him it didn’t matter…but it did…

I feel Lance’s arm start to fall from around my shoulders, the sudden cool air sending goosebumps down my spine. I assume he’s about to step away, god forbid he ‘catch’ something…but then I feel gentle fingers brush the back of my neck as Lance’s arm slides back to his side. It was brief, but almost like a quick reassurance. I look up and see him take a few steps towards James and place his flat cap back on his head.

“Now you’re not gonna stand there, James…” Lance adjusts the cap then shoves one hand in his pocket. “…and tell me…” His head dips to the side curiously. “…that you’ve never thought about another man’s whore-pipe?” Lance frowns, then smiles, lightly slapping James on the side of the face with his free hand before turning away. He heads towards the exit, turning around momentarily to smile. “I’ll speak to you soon, eh, Keith…” Then he winks and pushes the door open with his boot, leaving James red and silenced…

And my heart twice the size…

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr - jovialjellyfishreaper
> 
> Glossary-  
> Kidsman – An organizer of child thieves  
> Bludger – Violent criminal – one who is apt to using a bludgeon  
> Can – Barman  
> Mouth – Blabber  
> Mutcher – A thief who steals from drunks  
> Abbess – Madame  
> Bordello – Brothel  
> Lock Hospital – Designed to treat venereal disease / rehabilitation  
> Jack – Detective  
> Eternity Box – Coffin  
> Hook – Pickpocket  
> Swag – Stolen goods  
> Chavy – Child  
> Blinker -Black Eye  
> Half-mourning – To have a black eye from a blow  
> Nancy – rude word for backside  
> Mandrake – Homosexual  
> Whore-Pip – Male genitals


	3. Cake Or Royals?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone whose read so far and left a lovely comment!!!
> 
> I really enjoy writing this story so knowing at least someone is enjoying reading it is enough for me <3
> 
> As usual glossary is at the bottom! Enjoy!

(Keith POV)

“It’s so cool to be working together like this, you know… I-I mean it’s not like I don’t like working the front desk an ol’ but it’s nice to go outside and really see the world we’re working for…I was honestly surprised when you asked me to come with you, n-not that I don’t think you’re a team player…a-a team player and stuff it’s just…” I spin around and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Hunk…” The larger copper looks down at me with a worried expression. “…Hunk, I asked you to come with me because you’re a good cop –”

“And Shiro was busy…” I roll my eyes but don’t deny it.

“I needed someone to come with me who was around during the discovery of the murder _and_ so that I had another person to…” I wave my hand out dispassionately. “…bounce my words off of.” I watch Hunk stand up a bit straighter and make a small salute.

“And it’s an honour to ‘ave your words bounced off of me, Sir!” Hunk smiles and I raise an eyebrow. I nod my head slowly and look before crossing the busy street towards the fork in Aldgate High Street.

“That’s…” I frown slightly to myself. “…that’s good to know Hunk.” We stop by the end of the street and I take in the tall concrete pump that stands on the path. It was a staple of rich history through the last century and now it held the stains of blood around it’s rusted drain and loose police tape flapped in the wind. “Hunk, pass me the photos…” I hold my hand out without turning away from the pump and glance over when it remains empty.  “What…?”

“ _Please_ …” My expression goes flat, and I let out an impatient sigh.

“…”

“…”

“ _Fine_ …Hunk, _please_ pass me the photos…” I hold my hand out again and watch as Hunk takes a brief glance at the documents, his face going immediately pale. There was a reason the sunny copper didn’t spend too much time seeing ‘the world we’re working for’, with a weak stomach and immediate distaste for the gruesome details that come hand in hand with homicide. I take the photos.

“You alright?” Hunk seems to take a deep breath then smiles weakly.

“Y-yeah, just, you know, it’s never a nice thing to see – a-and with a kid, he was just a lil’ chavy, it’s just…it’s not…I don’t understand how someone could…” I place a gentle hand on his shoulder, stopping the uneasy stammering in its tracks.

“It’s alright Hunk, if it’s any consolation...” I peer down at the photograph of the thirteen-year-old boy. “…doesn’t get any easier for my either.” I circle the pump a few times, glancing down at the photograph so that I was able to picture the murder in real time. How the boy was displayed and details that could suggest _why_ here.

“So…what are you doing here anyway, Shiro said there were no connections between the Aldgate murder and the Judies?” I nod my head again but don’t look at Hunk as I step under the fading tape.

“True…there weren’t any…” I run my hand down the cold red-stained stone. “…obvious connections, but it still needs looking into and since I’m already in the East End…” I end my sentence with a shrug. “Say, Hunk?” I pause in front of him and look up. “How long has your family lived in the East area?” My temporary partner seems slightly taken aback by my seemingly random change in subject.

“Uhh, well…my kuku wahine came over to Plymouth in her early twenties…” Hunk scratches the back of his neck and I summarise.

“So, about three generations?” I look down at the intricate carvings on the wolf head spout. “That means your grandmother would have lived through it…did she ever talk about the Aldgate pump?” I look back to Hunk and see a contemplative expression adorning his large features. He tips his hat back upright and frowns.

“I don’t recall…why, is the pump significant?” I smile sadly and take a few steps back.

“The Aldgate pump has been a staple of history in the East Ends of London for centuries… ‘My days business beckoned me to the East End of London, I had turned my face to that part of the compass…and had got passed Aldgate pump…’” I take a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. I adjust my own hat and peer up at Hunk’s stilted expression. “…Dickinson…”

“Wow…” Hunk’s voice was quiet. “…you, uh…you must read a lot…” I give him a small smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Quite the famous landmark then?”

“You could say that…” I hold the photo up in front of me. The boy was tied up, hands out-stretched like a sacrifice, the pump itself acting as a crucifix of sorts. His torso was exposed with a clean cut from the dip of his throat to just above his groin. Blood trickled down the shapely stone until it disappeared into the bottom drain. “...The water from this pump used to be admired for its purity and freshness…” I lower the photograph but don’t take my eyes off the former crime scene. “…children used to play by the fountain and revelled in the clean water the Victorian streets had supplied to those less fortunate.”

“Why do I get the feeling this story takes a…” Hunk visibly swallows and puts his hands into his deep pockets. “…less than savoury turn.” I turn away from the pump and place the photo in my inside coat pocket.

“In the earlier years of our century people started to mention the water tasting a bit… ‘off’, it claimed the lives of hundreds of Londoners, with a rich calcium taste assumed to be harmless before it was too late. After a pattern was finally discovered and a clear correlation between the people’s water and those who fell ill was found, The City investigated the water supply.” I gesture to the ground then lazily off into the North West direction. “…They found the water travelled from Hampstead, seeping through new cemeteries and picking up bacteria from dead bodies along the way.” I spare a glance at Hunk’s still figure as the world carries on busy around us.

“That’s horrible…” I shrug.

“It’s what it is…” I close my eyes for a moment then look up at the imposing feature.

“If that’s true then how come it’s still in use today? People use this pump, that’s why we had to use so much tape.” I shove my hands into my pockets and run my thumb calmingly over my pocket watch.

“As a result, the pump was later connected up to the New River Company’s main water supply in 1867…”

“Well th-then…” Hunk sounded frustrated, so I give him my attention once again. “…if this so called famous pump killed so many, how come I haven’t ‘eard of this?” I raise my shoulders, a silent ‘why would I know’.

“You know how we are with death…” I look off to the side. “…the British people don’t want to talk about it, we’d rather just…” I deflate my shoulders in another sigh. “…forget it and move on. The epidemic of Aldgate pump is told more through East End folklore, rather than a real tragedy that struck so many. It went from providing people with the foundation of life…and then used that very substance to kill by the hundreds.” I let out a humourless laugh and turn back to Hunk. “A macabre, yet ironic story to be told.” He shakes his head slowly and moves to pull his shirt collar open.

“How come you know so much about it?” I give Hunk a brief, muted expression, then step off the pavement, heading back the way we came. I can hear Hunk eagerly following me from behind.

“Like you said…” I peer to the side when I sense the larger cop begin to walk beside me. “…I read a lot.” I head forward and squeeze my watch – the cold, rough surface grounding me to the present. “I think I’ve seen enough, we’ll go back and report what we did – or _didn’t_ find to Shiro.”

 

We make our way down the busy streets and eventually settle into a more comfortable silence as we get more distance between us and the disconcerting, so called, staple of history.

“You know…” Hunk’s voice was back to normal, the sombre mood forgotten as we make to get on with our day. “…Shay recons I could do to lose a few pounds…” I let a small grin fall onto my lips, revelling silently in the mundane change of conversation.

“Oh yeah, and why’s that?” Hunk makes a sour face then runs a flat hand down his stomach.

“Lackin thinks me benjis gettin’ too tight…” I let out a laugh at Hunk’s disgruntled tone and narrowly dodge the light shove he grants to send me off the pavement. “It’s not funny, I can’t afford to buy new clothes on a lowly constable’s rate…” I give Hunk a non-sympathetic shrug.

“Could always become a dragsman…lotta swag in those trunks…” Hunk gives me an unimpressed side eye and fails to keep in a spout of laughter.

“That’s one idea, runnin’ from the law…pickin’ up some other blokes kecks and milltag…” He faces forward and shakes his head. “…let’s face it though, none of that fancy pants dunnage is gonna fit me anyway…”

“Worth a shot…” I give Hunk a grin and we fall back into the comfortable silence. “Besides…” Hunk seems surprised when I speak again – not usually the one to encourage more conversation. “…your wife works at a bakery…it’s an inevitable result of your homely lifestyle.” I look up to the darker skinned cop and smile. “And most of that…” I give Hunk’s belly a quick pat. “…that’s all just a lotta love, man…” We both fall into a fleeting fit of laughter. Hunk wipes at his chocolate eyes and grins wide.

“Awww, thanks Keith.” I place my hands back in my pockets.

“No problem…” I raise my head a little to look up into the grey sky. “…contrary to popular belief, I’m not completely inept at everythin’ par homicides.” Hunk chuckles.

“Noted…” We walk side by side and my shoulders feel a little lighter than usual, my time with Hunk probably having done me good. “You know, Keith…” I look up at my name and Hunk continues with a smile. “It really wasn’t the same with you gone…” Hunk’s words send a warm cloud across my chest.

“Thanks Hunk…” We share a mutual and knowing nod then turn down Leman street, almost back to the station.

We stop for a moment so Hunk can buy some scran and he makes polite conversation with a woman working a fruit stall. Bright reds and greens stand out from the rest of the street, strawberries filling up woven straw punnets.

“Want one?” Hunk offers me one of the large ripe fruits, but I decline. We walk into the front of the station and the pungent air of crime and punishment hits me like a wall. Hunk walks purposely and takes his place back behind the front desk. I follow up behind him at a slower pace, taking off my hat and resting it on the side. “Say, Keith, can I ask you a question?” I nod my head, unsure of Hunk’s quick change in tone.

“Always…”

“I was just wondering what you and Shiro have Lance doin’?” It definitely wasn’t a question I was expecting. It had been nearly a week since Lance said he’d get us names and I’d done pretty well at forgetting about the smiling pickpocket, until now. He was a distraction, and confusing. My job was all about solving things that didn’t make sense – and Lance didn’t make sense – whilst he was a kidsman of the impoverished East End, a renowned job of speelers and crooks – Lance talked about his boys like they were family…he was generous, and smart… and beautiful… “I just asked because…” Hunk looks worried after my silent response, interpreting my drifting thoughts as displeasure towards his question. “…he’s a-a…I’ve known Lance for a few years now and he’s a good guy. I know he has his…ways, but if you ask him for something he’ll go to great lengths at gettin’ it – he really is the best at what he does…” I felt a slight shudder of annoyance towards my body’s reaction at the mention of the thief.

We were just using him for information…

Then I’ll be back out towards the West of the city…

“What’s your point Hunk…?” My tone came out more clipped than I planned, not wanting to ruin the nice moment we’d shared previous. Hunk looks down sheepishly and I feel a knot of regret.

“I just wanted to ask for you to be careful, don’t let him do anythin’ too dangerous, he’s a –”

“—good guy?” I internally smack myself for being so blunt. “Yeah, I get it…” Although it was kind of hard to keep track of a guy who just showed up when he felt like it…

It wasn’t my job to babysit him…

And it’s not like I could if I wanted to…

“Keith!!” Hunk jumps at the loud voice from down the hall and I let out a sigh, annoyed that I had to leave mine and Hunk’s conversation on such a downward tone. I turn around and watch Coran approach me, his tall stature hung with a long woollen coat and checked trousers.

“Sir?” Inspector Coran stops in front of me and plays impatiently with his moustache. 

“Keith, where have you been, we need you down Southwark as soon as possible –” I frown.

“Southwark? That’s Central, why – we don’t even have jurisdiction there?!” Coran nods his head quickly but already begins to beckon me towards the exit.

“I know, I know…but the circumstances have allowed me to convince that stuck-up bastard Sendak to let us take a look at his crime scene.” Coran stops for a moment and a sad expression covers his face. “There’s been another murder, and there are similarities suggesting it’s related to our Judy cases…”

“But that doesn’t make any sense, there’s no –”

“I know…there’s a few more things too, but,” Coran gestures to the door. “…I’ll explain it when we get there, son, and I know it doesn’t really make sense. Your brother’s already out there so we’ll meet him at the scene.” I take a deep breath and run a hand through my hair. I turn around, sparing Hunk a brief glance before picking up my hat.

“Good luck…” The copper smiles at me sadly and I nod in thanks.

“I’ll see you later…” I follow Coran out the door and back out into the streets. Heading towards Central was never fun, taking Tower Bridge made the pedestrian traffic almost unbearable. I’d worked in a lot of parts of London since I left the East End – Southwark being no unfamiliar territory – but I knew the unspoken feud between the Central and East end metropolitan police. Sendak’s been the Inspector out Central for years now and he looked down on those who ‘wasted time’ on the lower classes.

_‘Why solve their crimes when they choose to live in such filth…’_

The guy was an over paid pig who thought only those who made a penny were entitled to justice and believed that people who lived in poverty chose the lifestyle modern society had thrust upon them.

 

 

We made it to the crime scene in record time, with more police men around the street than you’d see on a mass murder back out East – they had the funds to smother the dead out here. I jump out of the car and throw my half-smoked cigarette to the ground. I hold up my badge, various uniforms letting me through the unnecessary crowd.

“Keith!” It was my brother, he looked tired and I could see the tide of relief that washed over him. “I’m glad you’re here.” I walk up to him and lower my head.

“The hell’s going on Shiro, why are we out here?” Shiro’s eyes looked down and he sighs.

“Take a look for yourself…” He moves out the way and I step forward. On the ground laid a pristine gown, draped almost sinisterly across the cobbled street ground. I move closer and squat down to get a better look. The woman was young, her face made up with makeup and her hair pinned in a manner that put Shay’s pastry knots to shame. She was beautiful…

And carved up like a Sunday crown…

“Keith, correct?” I glance up and see Inspector Sendak, his dark eyes taking in my own violet irises. “This is my jurisdiction and I expect action. Whatever _this_ is…” He gestures carelessly at the body. “…I want it sorted…” And with that he walks away. I didn’t really have a response to that, except, technically, ‘whatever _this_ is’, is not my job…but the deep lacerations across her elegant neck and the dark abrasions across her wrists start to tell me otherwise. I stand up and feel my brother lay a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“What are you thinking?”

What am I thinking…? I’m thinking I need to sleep, I need to stop looking at dead bodies…

I’m thinking it would be nice to spend one day without having someone asking me what I’m _thinking_ like it’s the answer to everyone’s existential problems…

“She’s not a working Judy, that’s for sure…” I take in her frilly gown and tailored corset. “…a woman of high-class…it doesn’t really make any sense. Why come all the way out here?”

“Actually, there’s more…”

Of course there’s more…

Coran walks around the body and gestures his hand over the sliced jugular, then looks up at me.

“This here is the only complete laceration…” Only?

“Not six like before?”

“Nope…” He stands up on long legs and points over to a Benz Viktoria off towards the square. “…we think he was interrupted and a young lady over there tells us that she saw someone with the body. The young woman screamed once she realised that someone was on the ground. The culprit ran off as soon as sh ---”

“Wait, so this woman saw who did this…can I talk to her…?” Coran’s about to say something when my brother steps forward.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…” I look up at him and frown. How could it not be a good idea, the girl _saw_ the murderer, and in pure daylight for another thing.

The guy was either getting desperate or cocky… I look down at the ethereal body…and apparently developing more expensive taste.

“How can you poss –”

“It’s not that I don’t think we _should_ , Keith…” Shiro holds up a hand to calm me down. “…it’s just, the girl just witnessed something very distressing and your approach isn’t always…” He makes a pained expression. Okay, so…I can’t talk to the _witness_ about the _murder_ because I’m not fucking nice enough?

“I think the heightened feelings of a young girl are a little less important than the murder of currently _four_ women, Shiro!” My brother sighs and I can see the frustration behind his eyes.

“No Keith, I agree we need to get all the information we can, but you can’t just go all in, guns blazing! The girl needs to calm down and process the situation more – we’re not all numb to this kind of thing like you!” Shiro’s words knock me back a punch and I square my shoulders.

“Fine…” My voice was quiet. “…we’ll wait, and you can talk to her.” I walk around my brother and bump his shoulder as I go past.

“Keith!” His voice cracks ever so slightly, probably with regret…but the words were already out.

“Keith! What about the body?!” This time it was Coran. I turn around with a levelled expression, revealing nothing and feeling nothing.

“She’s dead…” I gesture nonchalantly and turn back around, heading back towards the East End…

I’d had enough of this case….

And something told me whoever it was, was hardly getting started…

 

 

I make it back to the station in the late hours, but I don’t go in. There’s a loud commotion coming from inside and I really don’t feel like dealing with anyone else today. I think I’ll just head home, feeling the way the day had drained me, leaving behind a hollow emptiness that I’m pretty sure self-depreciating isolation isn’t going to fix, but…

It’s what I know…

I’d spent the long walk back thinking over everything I’d just seen. The ghostly pale skin of the high-class woman became haunting under the dark red ridges in her skin. Why would the killer go out of his way to find some one of her stature, and why under the incriminating blaze of the mid-day sun? All murders in the East have occurred in the early hours of the morning, fitting the acts and kind of those who roam at night – but now…

We’re looking for someone who could walk around the central area of London City and not cause attention. Someone who preyed on prostitutes…no, not prostitutes… _women_ …someone who preyed upon woman no matter their background. I keep walking along the street and close my eyes. I try to picture a map of London’s boroughs, where our killer goes and where he hunts.

I find myself outside the tenancy and keep walking. The road turns darker and I head into the park. It was getting late and the sun had already set in the sky. I notice an empty bench between two sad looking trees and sit down, leaning my head back and closing my eyes once again…

The killer made his way around the East End, finding women in dark corners who couldn’t be heard and wouldn’t be missed…at least that’s what he would presume. But then he goes after someone down in Central – could it have been a fluke…? No…it would more likely have been a chance taken. He was walking through and found a lonely woman and thought…

_‘It’ll only take a minute…’_

I try to picture the boroughs again, his predatory pattern as he makes his way through Whitechapel and Shadwell…and then a one-eighty into Southwark – across the river and into unfamiliar territory… _or_ …familiar territory? Will he keep going from Southwark through South London, through St Saviours Estate and into Bermondsey…

Bermondsey?

I open my eyes and I take a deep breath, the cold night air giving the impression of a cleaner city. Lance had mentioned one of the first three victims having worked down Bermondsey in a brothel. Geographically it’s probably a coincidence, but… I sigh and take off my hat, lowering my head downwards.

I was sick of thinking…

I use my free hand to cart shaking fingers through my hair, and take a deep breath…

One… In –

_‘Patience…’_

Two… Out –

_‘Yields…’_

Three… In –

‘ _Focus…’_

Four… Out –

Shiro’s words bounce around my head like a mantra. He used to say them all the time when I first joined the force. I was a natural at the weird and grotesque…when people turned away from a crime scene, I merely explored it deeper – never a murder that was too obscene to crack…

_‘…we’re not all numb to this kind of thing like you…’_

It’s true, somewhere along the line I did become numb – or so I thought - death is the reason I joined the force and death is the reason I stayed…it’s what I’m good at, its…

_‘…where you excel…’_

I feel a heavy weight on my chest and take in a shaky breath, still not looking up. I can feel the cool air brushing against the skin exposed between my coat collar and my thick hair. It sends a silent chill through my body and I prepare myself to leave…but if I go back, I won’t be able to sleep…I don’t want to work anymore…

I didn’t really have anything else that kept me going…

“Is this seat taken?” The voice sends a sudden jolt through my body and I sit up, I raise my head slightly to see tanned fingers resting just inside handsewn pockets. I look up and see Lance’s eyes shining down at me.

What is he doing here?

I realise I hadn’t answered and glance to the empty seat beside me…

“Go nuts…” At my response, Lance smiles and sits down dramatically beside me, spreading his arms out across the back of the bench.

“Soooo…” His eyes travel curiously around the dark park, shadows painted across the narrow path through shedding trees. “…watcha doin’ in the park, Keith?” His eyes land back on me and I quickly look away. The heavy weight on my chest a little lighter than before. I decide to turn my attention back and squint in his direction.

“I could ask you the same thing…” Naturally, Lance smiles at my snarky response and he complies, gesturing out to our wide green surroundings.

“I like to watch the nature…”

“At night…when it’s dark…?” I quirk an eyebrow and feel a faint smile on my lips. Lance turns back to me and nods confidently.

“Yep…very different nature at night…” He seems to think for a moment and a light crease appears between his slight eyebrows. “…bats, aaaand…” He shrugs. “…badgers?” The last one came out like a question and I actually laugh. Lance spins around at the sound and smiles even wider. “Okay, you got me…” He shrugs one shoulder. “…just a bit of light, honest toolin’… helps clear my head…” I scoff.

“Honest?” Lance jumps on defence.

“Well I didn’t lie about it, did I!?” I sit up straighter, my hands still hanging between my legs, my grip tight around the rim of my hat.

“Actually, you kinda did…” I give him a smirk. “Unless you’re after the well-earned shillin’s of badgers and bats alike?” Lance frowns and a defeated look falls across his sharp features.

“Oh yeah…Okay! So, I guess I lied at first, _but_ …parks a good place to get a few thickers from some swell…” I roll my eyes and sit with my back against the bench, the subtle brush of Lance’s arm sending a warm spark through my body.

“So, what do you want…?” I turn to look at him. “…you here to pocket me?” A different kind of smile falls onto Lance’s lips, but he scoffs, hiding it behind a nonchalant gesture.

“Naaa, Jacks don’t earn shit around this end… --” He looks back at me and I feel the weight in my chest disappear into a warm burst.

God damn it…

“—Well, I told you why _I’m_ here…” I look down at the prying words. “You gonna tell me what you’re doin’ hangin’ around Mile End park during lushington hour?” I feel the weight begin to return, every time I close my eyes I see the ghostly white face of the upper-class woman from before, slight slashes adorning her high cheekbones.

My stomach turns…

“— _or_ …” I sense rather than feel Lance lean forward. “…you don’t have to…” I still say nothing in fear of giving away my uneven breathing. “…bad day?” After a minute, I nod my head slowly… “I heard about the woman down Southwark…” Lance leaves the sentence hanging, probably in hopes of me chiming in. I think about getting up to leave, telling Lance I was tired and needed to go home…but I didn’t want to…I open my mouth to reply when he continues. “Unknown killer marking his way through London, slicin’ up Judies like scored bread, then _bam_ – well to do lady gets drained in a well to do area and everyone loses their minds.” His voice takes on a different tone. “What is it Keith? What are you thinking Keith? We gotta catch ‘im Keith! Keith’ll figure it out! No more patterns, no new leads, and whilst this is all happening, nobody thinks…” He looks over to me and raises his eyebrows, a sad smile on his face. “… ‘how’s Keith handling all this’?” After he finishes I let out a shaky breath I didn’t even realise I’d been holding. I look down for a moment and swallow – my voice coming out quiet and raspy when I speak.

“Yeah…something like that…” The admission alone was something else. “I’m just…” I think about saying it all, actually telling someone how heavy the feeling really is, but I just settle for… “…tired…I’m just tired.” Lance nods in understanding but I can see the clear doubt in his eyes.

“That’s fair…well!” Lance stands from his seat and turns to look down at me, shoving both hands into his pockets. “…you kinda look like you need a drink.” I start to shake my head, then feel two elegant fingers graze under my chin, lifting my head up so that I couldn’t look away. “Is it because there’s strictly no fraternizing with the enemy?” Lance swiftly removes his fingers and holds his hands up in the air – the constant atmosphere of confidence and surety never leaving him for a second. “I promise, no thievin’ fingers tonight…”  My chin feels cold from where Lance had touched me, and a separate heat travels through my body. I sigh. “Come on Keith…” Lance’s voice takes on a small whining undertone. “…I made you smile earlier, and quite frankly…it’s been the high-light of my day so far.” He smiles and offers his hand out.

This would be a really bad idea…

I finally stand from the bench, not taking Lance’s hand, and I place my hat back on my head. Lance doesn’t step back, leaving only a few inches between us, which makes the height difference feel so much larger than it really was.

“Fine…” I let the word slip out and watch as Lance’s lips spread wide, showing two rows of pearly whites. “But first…” His smile doesn’t falter at my words… “I want you to answer something for me.” He nods assuredly.

“Anything for you Keithy boy…” I let out another sigh and place my hands back into my pockets, feeling the security of my pocket-watch.

“Did you manage to get any useful information on the ca—” Before I can finish, a hand covers my mouth and Lance frowns.

“Keith…” He says it like he was about to chastise me for asking. “Strictly no business talk, this is leisure time, _Keith’s_ time…certain topics are off limits…” He removes his hand and I make a mental note of the subtle smell that I was quickly learning to be Lance – the delicate mix of sandalwood and mixed spices. I let my face settle into a flat expression, hiding the quick thumping of my heart. I roll my eyes.

“And those topics would be?” Lance smiles once again like he was glad that I’d asked. He finally takes a step back and begins to list the topics off on his fingers.

“Strictly no work talk…” One finger… “…I’m not much into politics…” Two fingers… “… Religion, whose got the time?” Three fingers… “…Farm animals, the royals –”

“The royals?” I raise a questioning eyebrow.

“Not a fan Keith, not a fan…” Five fingers… “Hmmm…ohh - and hoop skirts…!” Six fingers, and I manage, _somehow_ , to keep my mouth shut. I nod slowly.

“Okay, so…” I give Lance a bored look and count the topics off one by one. “…no work talk, no politics, no religion, no…farm animals…?”  I can’t resist another raised eyebrow, but Lance nods on encouragingly. “…no royals and no hoop skirts?”

“Yep, perfect…” Lance smiles and looks down at me. “…you catch on quick Keith; our friendship is sure to flourish.” I roll my eyes but feel the warmth in my chest burst. “Now…!” Lance’s voice drags my attention back. “…topics we _can_ discuss: Cricket, spring time, chimney sweeps, cake –”

“—Wait…” It was Lance’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “…does Victoria sponge come under cake or royals?” Lance actually seems to take my question very seriously and rests a contemplative finger against his chin.

“Cake… _but_ …!” He holds the finger up and gives me a stern look. “…I would prefer we refer to it as ‘eccentric pound cake’…” I have to fight back the smile that pushes forward, and I hold Lance’s stare with a flat one of my own. He continues the list. “… _Also_ , the recent development of electric railways, paper windmills, Oliver Twist –”

“You _read_?” My tone was a mixture of irreverently impressed.

“ _Stop_ …interrupting Keith…” He seems to think for a moment. “…the intricacies of gas lighting, the first world postal stamp, the French revolutionary war –”

“Doesn’t that count as politics?” Lance shrugs.

“S’more history…” He gestures dismissively. “…aaaand…” He frowns, looking around our immediate vicinity and sighs. “…trees, I guess…” He looks down at me and I bite my bottom lip, still fighting the smile that so desperately wanted to show.

“You done?” He thinks for a moment then smiles and nods.

“Yes…yes I am done…” I nod my own head slowly.

“So…” I look up into Lance’s blue, vibrant eyes and feel every bone in my body scream for me to run a finger along the sharp curve of his jaw. “…did you seriously make me stand here and listen to you list off the most random things and topics that jumped into your head?” The taller man just smiles and refuses to admit it. I shake my head, looking down at the damp floor, then back up. “Can we just go now?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” Lance immediately spins around and throws an arm around my shoulders, guiding me down the dark pathway. “…probably best we leave the park anyways, bunch a dodgy prigs hangin’ around these parts…” Lance smiles and looks down at me, his arm squeezing tighter. “Oh, and…” I catch as he removes his flat cap and shoves it into his jacket pocket.

“What are yo –” Before I have a chance to ask, I feel a sudden cold air run across my head and then watch Lance take my bowler hat and place it onto his own. I look up and see a mischievous glint in his eye. The hat sat perfectly on top his brunette hair, as if it should have been there all along. “What are you doing?” There was no malice in my question, even a hint of amusement slipping through. Lance looks down at me and runs the rim of the hat smoothly through his fingers.

“I just thought it’d look better on me is all –”

I couldn’t argue with that…

“—Now…!” Lance faces forward, leading us back towards the dim lights of the quiet night streets. “…let’s get that drink…!”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr - jovialjellyfishreaper
> 
> Glossary -  
> Chavy – Child  
> Judy – Common prostitute  
> Kuku Wahine – Hawaiian term for grandmother  
> Lackin – Wife  
> Benji – Waistcoat  
> Dragsman – Theif who steals luggage from a moving cab  
> Swag – Stolen goods  
> Kecks – Trousers  
> Milltag – Shirt  
> Dunnage – Clothes  
> Scran – Food  
> Kidsman – An organizer of child thieves  
> Speeler – Cheat  
> Sunday Crown – The crown of a chicken  
> Tooling – Pickpocketing  
> Thicker – Sovereign (one pound)  
> Swell – Well to do gentleman  
> Jack – Detective  
> Lushington – A drunkard  
> Prigs – Thieves


	4. How Scandalous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone whose actually reading this XD means a lot!!!!  
> Chapter four, mystery continues - a little Spanish - let me know if I've made any mistakes...  
> Glossary in end notes!/
> 
> Enjoy <3

(Keith POV)

We head back towards Whitechapel, the streets a cumbersome silence as drunks totter from bar to bar and cloaked figures slink round corners. I didn’t usually make it a habit of being out late on the streets, but these here were Lance’s territory. I look up at the taller man, my hat still sat on top his head, wisps of chocolate brown locks jutting out from beneath the rim.

“Here we are!” We stop in front of a rundown looking bar down a Chapel back road. I glimpse at the boarded-up windows and the low hanging signs. At first glance, I wouldn’t usually give the building the time of day, and I sure as hell wouldn’t step a foot inside. But when Lance steps forward, opening the door and gesturing for me to follow…

It was at that point I realised I would probably follow him anywhere…regardless…

The inside was dull, with booths hidden away in every corner. Dark wood covered every surface with worn red cushions and gas lights littered the few posts jutting out from hollow beams. The door closes behind us and I notice the surprising number of people scattered around the smoke-filled room. You wouldn’t have thought it was so crowded when stood outside the building, but the bar was packed to the roof.

“Stodger!” Lance calls when we get inside, walking towards the back of the room. “A standin’ sam of two gins!” We walk passed the bar and a burly man from behind the counter raises a hand in acknowledgment.

“Iya! Gone a flash of lightening…ol’ over in a sec…!” The guy shouts back in a thick brummie accent and Lance smiles, seemingly well-known enough to skip the queue and head for a table. We settle into a corner booth and he takes off my hat, setting it down to the side and runs long fingers through his hair. The air was warmer inside, a thicker atmosphere from heavy breathing and laughter. I take another quick look around, the black and white tiled floor glistening with a subtle sticky sheen.

“You come here a lot?” I look back to Lance when I ask and see his eyes already on mine. He shrugs.

“I guess...” He takes off his jacket and I follow suit, removing my coat and rolling up my sleeves. It was obvious Lance was well loved in the East End. I’d known the guy for less than two weeks and every person I’d come across since had either known the guy through business or shown a great deal of affection towards him. My mind travels back to Hunk’s words from this morning.

_‘…he’s a good guy…’_

My stomach flips and I close my eyes briefly, wondering for a moment what the hell I was doing…

“Now…I know I said no work talk…” I open my eyes and take in Lance’s new smile. “…but if it helps settle that whirring sound I can hear coming from inside your head --” He holds up a hand so that I wouldn’t interrupt.

I hated that he knew me well enough already…

“—I do have some information that I think will help, or at least give you some lead towards the case…” I nod my head slowly and frown.

“Are you gonna tell me now or make me wait until a more suitable hour?”

“Oh, I’m gonna make you wait…” He holds a finger up to emphasise his point. “…remember, it’s—”

“—Keith’s time?” I raise an eyebrow and Lance’s smile grows wider. He leans further across the table, arms crossed, and a light flush covering his cheeks from the cold.

“Exactly!”

…

…

“Was he a doctor?”

“Keith!!” Lance’s hand jumps across the table at a rather impressive speed. “Dude! What did we just say?” He flicks me on the nose and makes a satisfied noise when I give him an uninspired look. I’m about to try arguing when a high pitch voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Lance!” I look up to see a pretty red head, hair down to her waist and a bright smile on her face. “How you been!?” Lance returns the smile with one of his own and his attention is drawn to the beautiful woman in front of us.

“Romelle! Still servin’ the half shots, what happened to travelling the big wide world?” He grins knowingly and Romelle gives him a flat stare – something I could finally relate to on a woman.

“I’m workin’ on it! Money’s ‘ard to come by these parts, you know, lushingtons don’t tip for shits ‘round ‘ere!” She sets our drinks down on the table and places a tray filled hand on a slim hip. Lance picks up his drink and takes a quick swig, mumbling under his breath.

“Not if you’re talkin’ to them like this they’re not… OW!!” Romelle hits Lance around the side of the head with her tray.

“I ‘eard that! You an’ your smart mouth’s gonna get you in trouble!” I found it hard to believe it hadn’t already…

I watch the two interact, a familiarity that reminded me of how a lot of the coppers interacted back at the station. I didn’t get on well with a lot of the other constables whilst I was working around here…no one wanted to hang around the weird homicide freak…

I glance down to the table and inspect the clear liquid that sloshed around in the semi clean glass. I peer back up and watch Lance’s bright eyes dance as he laughs and talks. I imagine getting the attention of any girl in the world wouldn’t be a particularly trifling task for him. The Romelle girl seems to act more exasperated than annoyed, clearly going along with it all, a smitten glean in her eyes that says she’d talk about pretty much anything if it meant Lance’s eyes would stay on hers. 

I could relate to that too…

“Oh, this is Keith by the way…” Romelle’s eyes find mine and she smiles sweetly, offering her hand out. I take it and give her a weak smile back.

“Cute…” She blushes lightly. “It’s nice to meet you Keith! I ‘aven’t seen you around these parts before…?” She tilts her head to the side questioningly.

“Keith here’s a jack down from out West to help the rozzers…” Lance’s attention comes back to me and Romelle whistles.

“Workin’ around rozzers gonna get you in trouble Lance, if you go get nibbed I ‘aint got nobody to watch me back at night.” Lance shrugs and she pushes him teasingly. I look back down to my glass and feel the heavy weight on my chest spiral into something equally uncomfortable…

Jealousy…

I push the feeling as deep as it’ll go and take a sip of the gin. It was straight but tasted good – whether that was because anything that distracted me right now was a God send, or whether it was actually good…I don’t know. I down the drink and place the glass back on the table, watching the last droplets fly around smooth ridges. I can feel the burn of the alcohol, part of my brain screaming to have more - cloud the free-falling that comes every time I close my eyes, and blur the faces that won’t disappear…

_She wasn’t getting up this time…_

_Maybe if he wasn’t there…?_

_Blood_

_Blood_

_Blood_

“—Keith--?”

Think about something else, anything else…the case…my job is what keeps me going…

Three prostitutes found dead in the back alleys of the East End. They had no personal connections – what does connect them…?

They’re all women – women who work on the streets – but not the fourth victim…

An anomaly?

No –

The deaths were too clean for a quick decision like that, if the killer was making his way through methodically then the pattern would have shown up by the third murder. The fact they’re all women is the key –

What connects all women?

Children – maternal instincts…? There are plenty of men who hold deep hatred for the fairer sex purely due to psychological induced misogyny – mother never cared about me…

Mother never understood –

No…

They don’t understand women, so they crave to be closer…? They do understand women?

They want to understand –

He’s jealous… No – she’s jealous?

She understands women – it’s what makes the killing easier?

_‘He can’t stay here…’_

_‘We have no obligation…’_

No no nonononono – think about the case, only the case…

“—Keith--?!”

A doctor holds knowledge of the body – a doctor has an obligation to heal…

So why would they kill – ?

My thoughts are becoming scrambled and no pathway leads to anything that makes sense…

“…---Keith --!?” I feel a light touch on my hand and look up to see Lance’s face, a small dip in his brows telling me he was concerned. His hand doesn’t move from my own and I take a deep breath to shut up the voices that keep telling me to run away…

Run away from what?

_‘It’s a shame, if he were a girl he’d make a pretty penny…’_

No nonononono

This was a bad idea…

“---Hey…!” Lance’s hand squeezes mine a little tighter with strong fingers curling around my wrist. “…buddy, Keith, just look at me…?”

“S-sorry…” I feel my heartrate begin to subside, the noise of the pub beginning to resurface. I look up into Lances eyes and feel the weight lessen. “I was just, uh…” I swallow and feel the lump in my throat disappear after a minute of silence – Lance never once taking his eyes off mine – waiting for me to continue. “…thinking –” My voice comes out too quiet. “…I was just thinking…” I felt so small and I hated it…

I hated it…

This was such a bad idea…

“Well…--” Lance’s voice takes me out of the new spiral that had just begun in the recesses of my mind. I wasn’t used to people seeing this. I was always alone when it bubbled up…

I was used to being alone when they –

“—how about, we stop thinking for a while…hey?” His voice was quiet, almost as if he was approaching everything he said with a caution one might take with a small child…

Or a broken adult…

“Sounds good…” I clear my throat and feel Lances grip on my wrist slowly lessen until he sits back. I notice a second drink already beside my empty glass. We sit there for a while in silence, it wasn’t uncomfortable but I had this overwhelming sense that, if I said anything else– no matter how prudent – it would shatter…

“Are you back with me?” I let out a shaky breath and look up at Lance. The silence didn’t shatter – it just…washed away…

Like the waves…

“Yeah…” My voice was finally stronger and Lance smiles.

“Good…thought I’d lost you for a minute there…” He leans forward and I breath in the familiar smell of sandalwood and spices. “Where did you go?” His voice lowers, and I look down, the gin turning over in my stomach as a flurry of words fly through my head. “It doesn’t matter…” I look up. “…what’s important is that you’re here now…” He smiles. “…with me…” I nod my head and take a drink out of my second glass, clearing my throat again.

“So…” I relish silently when my voice doesn’t shake, desperate to forget what just happened. “…you wanna talk about the intricacies of gas lighting…or trees?” Lance grins widely at my question, but I still see the glint of concern in his eyes.

His eyes gave everything away…

He needed to watch that…

“Those were the topics that took your fancy?” I let out a sigh and raise an eyebrow, slowly fitting back into myself – who I knew – and who people wanted me to be…

“I _guess_ so…”

 

We talk for a long while after that – about everything, but mostly nothing. My mind begins to cloud over more and more as each gin disappears and I’m finally able to close my eyes without seeing…

Anything at all…

We leave the bar in the early hours of the morning, stepping out into the streets a simultaneously haunting yet peaceful experience. I had no idea where Lance lived or where he would go after this, but he walked along beside me all the same.  

“I think you were right…” I take a deep breath then turn my head to look up at him, my hat sat atop his head once again. Lance smiles down at me, his eyes sparkling every time we went past another street lamp.

“Oh yeah…?” I let out the breath with a sigh and look down to the floor.

“Yeah…I did need that drink…” We turn the corner and I start to recognise our surroundings. We weren’t too far from my tenancy so I appreciate the last few moments I had in this weird, quiet, in-between existence…where I wasn’t drowning, and Lance was here…

And everything felt…okay…

“Lance!” I spin my head around at the sound of shoes pattering against the cobblestones. Giggles and fits were travelling through the night air when a small group of children run around the corner. They were dressed in rags and jackets – patched to the nines with scraps and fabrics of all kind.

Lance’s Robin Hoods…

“Where you been!?” A tall boy shouted from the back.

“Whatcha doin’…?” A young girl skipped across the puddle ridden stones.

“Look what ‘av got!!”

Each one spoke with such excitement and adoration. I graze my eyes over each one, ages ranging between five and thirteen, girls and boys. Lance just laughs as they bustle passed us like a brief flock of birds in the night. They don’t stand around and wait for him to answer, they simply let him ruffle their hair and they scatter across the broad street road. I watch with awe as he shepherds them all onwards, out the direction we just came from. Thin lithe bodies push past my own and the smell of tar wafts around us.

No doubt a couple of the kids working as chimney sweeps during the day…

“Now what’s a bunch a nice kids like you, doin’ in a place like this?” Lance puts on a thick accent, as authentic as the cockney Londoner comes, and gestures wildly to the younger thieves. “You lot a nippers runnin’ around this here dark road in ya little trotter cases…!” The kids all laugh and clamber past one another, pushing and shoving as they flee as Lance comes closer.

“We just a saintly group a kids Sir!!” One kid yells, a cheeky smile on his face, and it was hard not to see Lance’s influence in that grin.

“Yeah! We don’t want no trouble!!” Another boy chimes in and they all laugh. I feel myself smile at the scene as Lance makes an exaggerated expression in shock.

“Saintly group?! Well…if my eyes doth do deceive me, is that a shiny jerry in your pocket good Sir Tommy?” Lance takes a step forward and the young group part like the red sea, revealing a small boy at the back. His shaggy hair hid the black smudges across his cheeks and he had his hands hidden deep within his pockets. Lance’s expression had turned serious, a change I hadn’t even noticed until the kids around me looked down with guilty expressions.

I rack my brain for what had happened – the young boy had stolen something he shouldn’t have? – A jerry?

A jerry…?

A watch!!

My eyes widen, and I shove my hands into my coat pockets. My pocket watch was missing once again, and I hadn’t even had the slightest idea –

“—Now Tommy, I for one…” Lance continues speaking, putting a hand to his heart. “…admire your gannets and am proud of your nimble fingers – really…I know Keith here’s a jack but he’s a sharp one.” His voice was lower than usual, and the small Tommy boy begins to step forward. Once he was stood directly in front of the tall kidsman, I recognised him as the kid from last week. The one I gave my pocket change to. “…but we have rules, regla uno…?” Lance lets the Spanish words fall from his tongue and holds up a finger – all of the kids answering together.

“DON’T GET COCKY!!”

“Regla dos?” He holds up two fingers and the little thieves oblige.

“BETTER A MUTCHER THAN DEAD ON STREETS!!”

“Tres?”

“SNEEZERS AND SPARKS ALL THE SAME, A HARD DAYS WORK IS THE WORKING GAME!!” They chuckle a little after the third, and I smile, the rule briefly translating to ‘whether it be diamonds or handkerchiefs, a hard day’s work is a hard day’s work…for thieves’. The chuckles wear down and Lance holds his hand out before continuing, Tommy looking up glumly.

“Regla cuatro…?” The boy digs into his pocket and drops a long chain with the watch into Lance’s palm. The boy looks up and his small voice answers the last question.

“Never steal from friends…” Lance grasps the watch and uses his other hand to ruffle the kid’s hair. He turns back to me and smiles.

“And Keith is our friend…” I hold my hand out and let Lance take it, placing the watch back in my hand and curling my fingers around it. “You really should keep a better eye on your sentimentals Keith, never know what kinda tea-leaf is slinking around out here.” I glance up and catch the boy run back to his friends, the group of kids hanging back, clearly waiting for Lance.

“Thanks…” I look up at him and make a show of shoving my watch back into my pocket. “…So, uh…these rules…--?”

“Five rules for all my boys and girls to live by...”

“What’s number five?” Lance raises an eyebrow. “You said four of them…” I shrug. “…I’m just curious?” He chuckles and takes a step back towards the quietly waiting kids.

“Tienes que seguir las reglas del juego..." He switches between the two languages in a nonchalant fluid motion. "...if you want to make it out here…” Lance shoves his hands in his shallow pockets and lobs me my hat. I catch it and run my fingers through my hair. “Regla cinco, patience yields focus, Keith…patience yields focus.” And with that he turns around, heading back the way we came only moments before. His words ring familiar through my mind and warm the slowly sobering parts of my conscience.

“Wait!” I spin around and watch as Lance stops before turning a questioning look onto me. “If you live that way, w-why did you come all the way out here?” Lance just smirks and places his flat cap back on his head.

“Well, what kind of gentleman would I be if I asked you out for a drink…and didn’t walk you home?” Then he smiles and turns away. It doesn’t take long for the road to empty out and I’m left in the quiet backstreets, only yards away from my tenancy.

How did he know where I was staying?

I make my way back home and stumble inside, trying hard not to wake up Ms Buttery as I go up the stairs. As soon as I stagger inside and crash to the bed, my mind shuts down and I sleep well for the first time in a long…long while…

 

I walk into the station the next morning with a pounding headache. I give a stiff smile as a constable holds the door open for me and I slowly settle my focus off of the usual commotion and onto my goal of the day. I’d had a messenger early this morning informing me that Shiro was bringing the witness from yesterday’s crime scene into the police station for questioning…and he wanted me to be there. I didn’t know whether this was some kind of apology for what he said or whether he actually respected my position as a copper beside him. Either way, I didn’t really appreciate the pity gig or the early wake up call.

“Keith! Shiro said you’d be here early…” Hunk gives me a smile, but I can see a wary expression hidden behind his sunny eyes. “I heard about yesterday, look, Shiro just wanted…--” I hold up a hand to stop Hunk’s imminent rambling – he had a bad habit of doing that.

“It’s fine Hunk…it was just a…” I struggle to keep my face impassive for a moment and take a quiet breath. “It was a long day.” I leave it at that and make my way through the dim corridor.

“Uh…yeah, Shiro’s in the back room, the woman’s –” Hunk cuts himself off, clearly not convinced I was taking any of it in. “Never mind…”

I get to the last door on my right and knock tentatively, overly aware of how my brother and I had left it less than twenty-four hours before. The door opens slowly, and a grey tuft of hair appears, my brother’s face adorned with the go-to solemn expression used when dealing with traumatized witnesses. I assume he was going to let me in, but I’m pushed gently back a step and Shiro closes the door behind him.

“Keith…” He sounds relieved. “Part of me wasn’t sure you’d come in today.” I shrug with my hands still in my pockets.

“Well, you sent that poor boy all the way up Mile End way just to tell me you wanted me here…” I pause for a moment and take in my brother’s ‘kicked puppy’ expression. “How could I stay away.” I give him a small smile and watch his shoulders relax just a little. It didn’t surprise me how much he’d probably been stressing over our small falling out – although my own aggressive and quick fire reaction wasn’t anything new. “So, what’s the approach…? Coddle until she caves from kindness?” Shiro scowls at my jab but doesn’t make a further comment.

“I just wanted to quickly cover it with you out here before you go in there. She came in this morning and she was still pretty…” Shiro flails his hands around in a gesture of unfathomed. “She just wouldn’t co-operate. Everything we tried just had her getting worked up again.”

“So, you need me to…?” Give her a big fat taste of reality? People die lady, get over it. Shiro sighs but let’s resignation fall across his face.

“I just need your help Keith.” And that was probably enough for me.

“Fine…” I take off my hat and brush passed Shiro, letting myself into the room. I pause in the doorway and take in the petite, well-dressed woman perched patiently in a chair at the front. Coran stood awkwardly to the side, his moustache bunched up from his sour expression. My brother follows me in and gently closes the door behind us.

“Miss Williams, I presume?” The small woman looks up at me and her blue streaked makeup gives her pale complexion an almost spectral appearance. She nods her head and I walk over, grabbing a wooden chair from the other end of the room and dragging it before stopping in front of her. “Miss Williams, I’m detective Kogane and I want to ask you a few questions regarding what you witness out in Southwark at approximately two twenty-five yesterday afternoon.” I sit in the chair and watch as her face begins to screw up in a pitiful display of grief.

“Oh Mr Kogane it was awful…” I nod my head, but I don’t have it in me to feed into it much more.

“I imagine it was Miss…” My voice is stoic and verging on impatient already. “But it is prudent that you tell us what you can…--” I’m cut off by an exaggerated wail and close my eyes briefly to keep my temper in check. She was young, innocent…she saw something horrific…

“You and your copper friends keep asking me all these questions and I really don’t feel like I can relive what I saw…it was just too much…” I sense Coran growing agitated by my side and I start to wonder how long they’ve actually been trying to get anything out of this lady before I got here. 

“With all due respect, Miss... —”

“I didn’t know her but I’m sure I know someone who was well established with an aristocrat she dined with a few times…” I hold back the urge to roll my eyes at yet another interruption and absurd response. “People are going to look at me differently now, how am I supposed to show myself at the club if…--”

“Miss!” I raise my voice slightly, and I catch Shiro tense by the door. I was losing what little patience I had managed to cultivate, and I let out a humorless laugh at the selfish perspective. “With – all – due –  respect...” I speak slowly, and Miss Williams’ eyes widen at my tone. “A woman is dead – no, actually, four women are dead…so perhaps you could forget – just for a moment – your sad little middle-class paranoia and help us figure out what it was that you saw yesterday. Otherwise we can’t do our jobs and whatever sicko did this is left to continue his roam of London, cutting and slicing up pretty women – much like yourself?” The room comes down in an odd silence and I lean back in my chair, expression impassive and more than ready to stop wasting my time if she doesn’t co-operate. “So, if you wouldn’t mind?”

…

“O-okay…” I lean forward once again, twisting my hat between my fingers.

“Okay?” I ask it for clarification and slightly in disbelief – they don’t usually crack so quickly, the ones with money. She nods frantically, her eyes glistening ever so slightly.  

“I, uh…I was walking down from the market, I had b-been picking up some things from the tailor…” Shiro quickly sits down and starts scribbling down everything she says. “I was going to cut across the square because my sister had arranged a dinner date for afternoon tea so…” She pauses for a second and takes in my expression. “…a-any…anyway I heard a strange noise coming from behind the carriage station and so I walked over and noticed this thick purple material, a, uh…a cloak or coat of some kind. I didn’t really think much of it but then I noticed the person laying on the floor. I panicked and screamed, her face an ungodly pale, her eyes were just terrified…--”

“Did you see the person over her?”

“No, well…I, uh…yes, but they fled so quickly and all I remember is that purple fabric…” She looks down for a moment and then back to me – a genuine sincerity in her eyes when she next talks. “I’m sorry, I really don’t remember anything else.” I nod my head and stand from the chair, kicking it lightly to the side.

“Height, weight…man, woman?” I raise my eyebrows, but she only shakes her head. “Okay…thank you Miss Williams.” I walk over to my brother and he stands from the frantically written notes on the table.

“Thank you…” I shrug.

“No problem, not exactly a vast array of information to work from though.” Shiro sighs and I glance over to see Coran helping the woman with her things. “Miss Williams?” She quickly turns around and waits for my question. “This purple…” She nods. “Was it light…dark? Rich…old?” Miss Williams seems to think for a moment and stands confidently.

“It was more of a…a grayish purple.” I nod my head once again and turn to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” Shiro steps forward and I give him a quick glance. I open the door and place my hat back on my head.

“To think…”

 

I head out into the streets and make my way towards Central. It was the weekend and the streets were bustled with people, mostly working class, the further I got towards the bridge.

“Excuse me…!” I stop walking and take a look around, the voice had called out in a large crowd so it really could have been directed at just about anybody. “Oi…down ‘ere…” I jerk my head down and see the young girl from The Altea brothel.

“Pidge…?” The name falls out of my mouth in bored recognition and she looks momentarily surprised, not remotely put off by my tone.

“Uh…” She blushes lightly and puts on a vaguely annoyed expression. “Y-yeah, that’s…how do you know my name?” We stand off to the side to avoid the crowds.

“You were at The Altea, Allura called your name…”

“Good memory…--” She sounded snippy.

“Yeah, well…it’s my job to have a good memory.” We watch each other for a moment, as if we both needed the time to determine whether this other human being was worth our attention. Pidge appears to decide I was and pulls a letter out of her coat. She holds it up to me and I raise an eyebrow.

“It’s from Lance, he apologizes he couldn’t see you today but somethin’ important came up. He wanted me to delivery this to you.” I look at the off-white envelope in her hand and take it.

“He alright?” Pidge seems slightly taken aback by my question then makes her face blank, a small smile on her lips.

“Yeah, just some fence problems…you know how it is.” I nod my head slowly, not really knowing how it is, but relieved non-the-less.

“So, you always the designated delivery service?” Pidge scowls at me but I see the small hint of approval growing behind her eyes.

“Lance gets info for a lotta folk…sometimes he can’t pass it on in person so it’s my job to make sure it gets to where it needs to go.” Seems sensible, Lance must trust Pidge a great deal if he uses her in his welsher business.

“Fair enough…say, you got any other deliveries after this?” She seems to think for a moment and hesitantly shakes her head. “Mind if I pick your brain over something?” She shrugs, and we head towards the bridge. Neither of us say anything for a while, a strangely comfortable silence washing over us. I was never usually one to take to people so quickly, but there was something about Pidge that made me feel contented in her presence. Perhaps it was her equally uncharismatic energy, or the fact I know she’s close to Lance – either way, I needed someone to help me think this over.

“So where we going?”

“Southwark…” I sense her look up at me.

“Yeaaah, I can see that…” We settle off the bridge and I take a quick right. “Not the slums then?” I glance behind us and watch as the streets flowed with suspicious liquids. Given, Southwark was considered nicer than the Chapel, but it still had much to be desired. The closer we got to Central, the cleaner the streets became, and the more Pidge began to stand out. “You thinkin’ a buying a nice fancy new coat or summin’?” I stop walking, taking in the furnished shops and somewhat better dressed pedestrians. “We near where that murder happened, right?” I keep walking until we reach Newington. “You don’t talk much do you?” We finally make it to the square and I spin slowly around in one spot, looking for where the body was found and where Mrs Williams claims to have witnessed this purple…cloak.

“A woman of such high public praise and wealth wouldn’t go to a tailor around these parts.” I look down at Pidge and her confused expression, but I continue thinking out loud. “The West end of Southwark is in better shape but not nearly as prestigious as one would think to shop for such…” I scoff. “…unnecessary prosperity.”

“What are you on about?”

“Even the Inspector didn’t have the time of day to look into her death, in his jurisdiction, it’s because it’s still – too…filthy?” I frown and head towards the slim alleyway where the body was found. I hear Pidge quickly catch up behind me and I feel my watch in my pocket. The brush of Lances letter sends a jolt through my body.

“What the bloody ‘ell are you talkin’ about?” I spin around to look at Pidge.

“She _did_ know her…” I walk over and sit down on a vacant bench, the young girl following me without further question. “…she lied, she did know the victim because the chances of two upper-class women wandering around lower London during the week…it wouldn’t make sense.”

“You mean the witness, I read about it in the paper.” I nod my head.

“She told me she didn’t know the victim, that she had been there to pick up something from the tailor – but think about -  a woman like that has far more choice up in in Mayfair where she lives. Coming all the way down here would benefit her in no way…--”

“Maybe she just wanted a bargain, go down one a dollyshops…?” I turn my attention to Pidge and frown. “Dollyshops, there’s a load around ‘ere. Lance’s worked with some of them. Good place to get rich people stuff at cut prices.”

“You mean stolen stuff?” Pidge isn’t deterred by my correction and just shrugs her shoulders.

“Whatever you wanna call it. Maybe these girls just wanted to experience a little thrill with their usually dreary shopping trips. You can pick up some pretty sweet lookin’ dunnage out here.” She faces forward, and I glance down, her feet not quite touching the ground as they swing like a small child’s. “If you think about it, kind of makes sense – two women cut through Blackfriar bridge from out West London, pick up a few stolen goods. They don’t want anyone to know so they come all the way down here. No one recognizes you thus no one gives a shit.” She looks up at me.

“…You could be right…then why lie about knowing her?” Pidge shrugs again.

“Maybe she left her behind to die and she felt guilty?”

‘…her eyes were just terrified…’

She wouldn’t have seen the woman’s eyes from where she stood, and by the time she supposedly witnessed this, the victim’s jugular was cut left to right. There would have been no life left in her eyes – let alone such an emotion…

“They were both attacked, and her friend was caught and so she fled – only to return moments later to inform the police. The killer would have been too aware of her getting away, so they didn’t go further than to slit the throat and run…”

“So, you’ve got a lying witness, a dead upper-class woman, three dead prostitutes and a weird hunting path from an otherwise inconsistent lady killer?” I look to Pidge and sigh.

“Yep…” I take a deep breath and run frustrated fingers through my hair.  “One second you think something’s finally coming together and then it makes even _less_ fuckin’ sense…The killer could be from anywhere, doing anything…wearing a…grey purple cloak…” I let out another sigh.

“Purple cloak…” Pidge raises her eyebrows. “…sounds fancy…”

“Yeah…fancy…” I place my head in my hands for a moment, everyday lead to less progress and more dead bodies. At this rate I was never gonna leave the boroughs of London. I sit up suddenly, a thought making my mind spin. “…it is fancy…” I look back to Pidge.

“Yeahhhh…?”

“Fancy and expensive – what if that person also cut through Blackfriar bridge from Convent Garden, through the Southwark streets, up through the slums and into the Chapel?”

“A rich killer…?”

“The worst kind…” I take out Lances letter and feel my finger under the thin flap. “…all the appetite of a murderer with all the power to hide behind.” I open up the letter, unfolding the crisp paper and begin to read.

 

_‘Dear Keith,_

_I’m writing to inform you that life has somewhat taken a complicated turn and I won’t be able to attend our forthcoming meeting. I have sent my trusted confidant to deliver this message since I am otherwise preoccupied with an over grown man-child and a wholesome abundance of stolen goods…’_

I stop reading the letter and raise an eyebrow at Pidge…

“Yeah, he likes to write like a fancy person, finds it funny…” I roll my eyes but at the same time completely see Lance doing this for the sake of a quick laugh.

“Man-child?”

“Yeah, that’s Bob, Lance’s boss – he’s a pain in the ass but hard to argue with, so…” She shrugs. “…I’m not surprised he’s caused problems after the last haul.” Bob? I file the name away for later, wondering who it was that Lance answered to. I found it hard to envision him following orders from anyone – except Allura of course. I look back to the letter.

_‘…I have attached inside an accompaniment of documents I believe may help your case. Some are from various non-descript sources that I’m not at liberty to disclose…”_

Pidges finger interrupts my reading and points to the last sentence. I look over to her and a familiar wry expression crosses her face.

“Yeah, he definitely stole those…” I let out a sigh, but I’m hardly surprised, ‘non-descript sources’ my ass…

_“…and the others are really my own musings on the matter. My notes hold names and dates of information acquired. The first finding is a connection to the medical industry that I think calls for your attention, and the latter wasn’t acquired until the most recent murder. The victim was a lot more…busy, shall we say, than originally thought._

_Until next time,_

_Lance X’_

I pull out the documents and immediately take in Lance’s scratchy, yet strangely elegant handwriting. The papers underneath was thicker and obviously taken from more official sources. I pull out the one with the most information and my eyes are drawn to the pretty face of Southwark’s victim. She was young, younger than the previous three and had enough of a public image to make it into the Telegraph.

“She’s pretty…” Pidge angles her head to peer at the image.

“Yep…and she’s dead…” She sits back immediately and looks at me glumly.

“What are you thinkin’…?” I sigh at the question. “What did Lance find?” I flick through the last few pages, then move to Lance’s notes.

…

“Oh…” I raise my eyebrows, reading the secrets Lance had managed to pull out of people.

“What is it?”

“The three victims from the East End…they all have history of back-street abortions. And the victim from yesterday…was set to marry a very well to do doctor from Chelsea next week.” He must be quite well known, keeping his name out of the press for the sake of his practice. We sit there in a stilled silence.

So, maybe the women weren’t as random as initially thought…

“Well shit…gonna be one depressing reception…” Pidge breaks the silence and I think for a moment.

“It’s a new pattern…”

“But what about fancy pants dead lady here…?” Pidge points to the picture of the Southwark body. “She doesn’t fit this pattern.”

“What if she does, what if she came down all the way to the Southwark slums, not to buy some dodgy cut price dunnage, but to contact a dodgy physician…” I look to Pidge. “…what if she had been pregnant, can’t let daddy know, or – God forbid – your rich doctor husband.” That’s what Lance seems to think as well.

“Couldn’t the husband just do it himself?” She waves her hand out dispassionately.

“Not if he doesn’t know she’s with child…not if he’s not the father…” I’d asked Lance to find me a name and he’d found me a whole fucking path of breadcrumbs. A new pattern of illegal abortions and a potentially betrayed rich and powerful physician with a reputation to uphold…

Pidge smiles…

“How scandalous…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr - jovialjellyfishreaper
> 
> Glossary-  
> Standing Sam – Round of drinks  
> Flash of Lightening – A glass of gin  
> Brummie – Birmingham  
> Half shots – Drunks  
> Lushington – Drunkard  
> Jack – Detective  
> Rozzer – Police officer  
> Nibbed – Arrested  
> Nippers – Kids  
> Trotter cases – Boots  
> Jerry – Watch  
> Mutcher – Thief who steals from drunkards  
> Sneezers – Handkerchief  
> Sparks – Diamonds  
> Tea-leaf – Thief (cockney rhyming slang)  
> Fence – Receiver of stolen goods  
> Welsher – informer  
> Dollyshop - A low, unlicensed loan shop or pawn shop.
> 
> Regla uno – Rule One  
> Regla dos – Rule Two  
> Tres – Three  
> Regla cuatro – Rule four  
> Tienes que seguir las reglas del juego – You must follow the rules of the game  
> Regla cinco – Rule five


	5. Red Or Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter took a bit longer 'cause...life XD  
> Thank you for all the lovely comments so far!! They mean a lot and really help keep the fic going when I know you're enjoying it <3 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the update and let me know if I made any stupid mistakes - I tend to upload late at night and my brain is half switched off

“There was a strip removed from the base of the throat, meaning the careful extraction was done before the jugular was cut, unlike the previous victims…” The diener uses long gloved fingers to trace over the laceration and I look up at the woman’s glassy eyes. She was found down Cartwright Street just outside the docks earlier this morning, just a dollymop compared to the last girls.

“Five additional cuts?” I walk around the room, looking at the various sketches and pictures captured of the latest crime scene.

“Uh, yes, there’s of course both the subclavian, radial arteries on the right and left wrists, femoral—”

“—Right and left thigh and the right common iliac artery…” I look up at the short man stood at the head of the body. “Same as all the others, an obvious pattern without an obvious purpose. They drain the body with the same procedure even though it’s wildly unnecessary, after so many lacerations the results are all the same, it just increases risk.”

“True…” Albert removes his gloves and adjusts the glasses that had slid down the bridge of his nose. “…per’aps its more of a ritualistic compulsion…?” I look over to the smaller man and raise an eyebrow, interested as to what he had to say. I quite liked Albert, his demeanour was timid, but he was one of the smart ones. “Various beliefs and religions follow strict rules…” He gestures to the pale body on his counter. “…given this don’t look like anythin’ I’ve come across or ‘eard of before, but that can’t negate the killer’s mindset.” I nod my head slowly. It was a new approach, focusing on the killer’s frame of mind, and maybe even their cognitive stability rather than their motive.

“Thanks Albert--” I smile at him and place my hat back on my head. The morgue was tucked in the basement of the station and held this thick tinge of antiseptic – a cold and ominous atmosphere that no body else particularly enjoyed visiting…

I quite liked it down here…

“—Is that all?” I make to leave the room but the diener perks up at my question and jogs around to the base of the body.

“Actually, Mr Kogane…” He lifts up the thin tarping that’s used to cover the body and moves the woman’s right foot with care. “…there was one more thing, an anomaly, if you will.” I walk over and follow to where my attention is required. “What do you think it means?”

_‘4/12’_

The numbers were cut into the inside of the right ankle, rough red edges causing the numbers to blur slightly together. Four – twelve…could it be a date? There have been five victims so far so that made no sense, perhaps they were planning something?

“I don’t know…” My words came out quiet in the dimly lit room. “I’ll have to think about it…” I look back up before I leave, nodding my head in gratitude. “Thanks again Albert.” I leave the room, another murder down, same modus operandi and our only new lead is a crudely scratched date on the inside of the prostitute’s ankle. It’s currently mid-November, meaning we’ve got just under a month before this supposed date of import. Going back to what Albert was suggesting about the killer’s mindset I should probably look into whether the date has any significance at all – perhaps a religious cult or spiritual ritual?

I head up the backway stairs and into the warmer air of the station. The sounds of bustling bodies interrupt the wind whipping against the thin windows, causing a sinister rattling through-out the near empty hallway. I let out a sigh and head for the main entrance when I hear my brother in a desperate discussion with Coran.

“With all due respect Sir, this is nothing like we’ve come across before. Putting that kind of pressure on the men would only delay the process—” I take a few steps, watching as the Inspector holds a hand up to silence Shiro.

“I know, but Shiro, you know as well as me that the longer we keep the press out of this, the ‘arder it will come down on us eventually in the end…it’s an inevitable fate, best get it out the way.” I stop beside my brother and look up at his paling face. From what I heard it was clear, Coran wanted Shiro to have some kind of press conference about the murders, and I can only imagine what kind of people would jump on a case of this calibre. The newspapers had a habit of picking apart police over a thing like this – making it sound as if we have far more power to control the thousands of people in this city than we actually did.

“Keith!” Coran looks over to me “Anything to declare after your looking at the body?” I shake my head and peer over to Shiro.

“What’s this about the paper?” My brother dismisses the question, giving me a tired smile.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, as head detective it’s my responsibility to give a statement on the progression of the case…” He gestures to the taller man in front of us. “…Coran here was just lettin’ me know the ins and outs of it.” I don’t change my expression, knowing there wasn’t a lot I could say that will improve the situation. I would be no use in the course of public speaking - if anything I’d probably just make it worse…

So best stay quiet…

“Guess I’ll be off then, stuff to think about –”

“Actually, Keith…” Shiro catches me before I can leave, and I stop by the door, raising an eyebrow out of curiosity. “…there’s something I’m going to need you to do.” I frown and take a few steps back into the station.

“This isn’t about th—” He shakes his head.

“No, no, it’s um…” He rubs the back of his neck, which tells me he was nervous about asking – which _also_ tells me I’m not going to like what ever he’s about to ask _of_ me. “Due to the longevity of the case and your, uh… direct involvement and investment into thus such, the superintendent wants to have dinner with us --”

“Shiro…!” My voice comes out as a whine, evoking immediate flashbacks to my chavy years. “You know I hate having anything to do with those people—” Shiro holds up his hands and I catch Coran snigger from the corner of my eye.

“I know, I know, but he wants to talk with me after my new position and he wants to meet up with you properly after your impressive performance out West.” He says the last bit in a lighter, chipper tone, as if that was going to have me jumping enthusiastically on board. I let out a sigh and take off my hat, running fingers through my hair.

“Do I have a choice?”

“No…no, not really…” I shrug and place my hat back on.

“Fine then… I guess, where is it?” Shiro smiles.

“A restaurant up Bond Street ---”

“Bond Street!?”

“I know but I’ll buy you a suit, Alfor won’t come down this way, you know that… we’ll head to Mayfair this afternoon and I’ll get you something to wear—”

“With what, you got the brass for that?” I gesture my hands out, knowing full well my brother doesn’t have the money to accommodate that kind of lifestyle.

“I got a pretty hefty raise when I was promoted—”

“And you’re gonna waste it on trying to convince that self-righteous asshole that I’m not some East London trash—”

“Keith!” My brother steps forward and rests two firm hands on my shoulders. “…For God sake, Keith. The guy’s not that bad, and he wants to meet you properly ‘cause you’re good at your job…so _please_ , just let me do this one thing for my little brother.” He raises his eyebrows and gives me those damn puppy dog eyes.

…

“ _Fine_ …” I shrug his hands off and head for the door once more, hearing him settle behind me.

“Great, we’ll hop a ride a Benz Viktoria and head to Mayfair now, it’ll give us enough time for you to dismiss just about everything before you eventually retire with whatever I tell you to get.” I give him a wry stare then turn to kick the door open with my boot. I stand out in the thick London air and light a cigarette, the sound of the door closing after my brother behind me. “Oh, come on…” Shiro nudges me with his good arm and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of grabbing my attention away from pouting. “…I bet you’ll clean up real nice.”

Oh joy…

 

(Three hours later in a small tailor down Savile Row)

“This is ridiculous…”

“You look good—”

“I look like a bloody prep student…” I turn to my brother and give a half-hearted attempt with showing off the blazer. “Come on Shiro, this thing costs almost more than I made all of last year.”

“Yeah well…” He stands up from his seat by the window and adjusts my collar, patting my shoulder afterwards with a smile. “…that’s because you spent half of last year messing about up North looking for—” My brother stops himself and I look down. “I just want what’s best for you Keith.” He takes a step back and smiles. “Plus, it looks good.” I nod my head and turn around, adjusting the jacket.

They had put me in a tail coat, my shirt was pressed with a Benji that complemented the dark blue jacket and my trousers were pressed to the ankle with a checker grey. The opposing colours came together, and the tailor had insisted he knew what he was doing – ‘cause hell if I knew – so I just let them put me in whatever.

“Now, for the necktie you have numerous options…” The old man holds up two loose neck ties and looks up at me. “…but I would recommend either the blue or the red…” He holds the blue up to my suit. “The blue would compliment the already navy ensemble, however…” He replaces the blue with the red. “…the dark maroon I have here would work just as swell.” He smiles, and I just shrug.

I don’t know…

“We’ll just take both…” My brother appears from behind me and the tailor nods his head, turning towards the back of the room. Shiro turns to me and I adjust the tight clothes around my neck. “Your mum would have loved to have seen you like this…she wouldn’t be able to beli—”

“Don’t…Shiro…” I let out a sigh and step off the foot stand in front of the mirror, undoing some of the many buttons of my waistcoat. “…just, don’t.” Shiro nods in understanding and I make my way back into the changing room.

“I thought maybe we could get some dinner after this…” I pinch the bridge of my nose and shrug out of the dinner coat. “…catch up on some things…” I undo the rest of the buttons and get the waistcoat off, my shirt still tighter than I would usually care for. “…it’s been a while since we talked about…things—”

“Okay Shiro, I get it…” I eventually manage to get back into my normal, comfortable clothes and nudge the thin wooden door open, the clothes draped over my arm. “…that sounds… _nice_.” I smile but get the feeling it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. The old man returns once again and takes the clothes off my hands, cashing up the price my brother will have to pay up.

I head back to the front of the shop whilst my brother pays and watch the well-dressed upper-class men walk the cleaner side of London’s streets. These people had no idea what happened in their city at night, they relished on the ignorance their money could buy and society felt this was the best way to harbour its wage gap. I look around the shop, fancy hats and silk ties – it wasn’t a world I ever asked to be a part of.

“Ready?” I spin around to my brother and take the bag he offers out.

“Sure…thanks…” I lift the bag up indifferently. “…for this.” Shiro shows no disappointed guise from my attempt at gratitude, as usual, and smiles.

“You’re very welcome, so where did you want to eat?”

We wander the streets of West Central London, an area I didn’t spend a lot of time in, and if I did, it was because somebody had died. Never really got to see the sights for that part. The sun was getting low in the sky and I watch as a man walks the emptying road with his long stick, lighting the few gas street lamps left in London. Nearly at the turn of the century, the City had begun to introduce electric lighting across its streets. We head down Brook Street and I look up at the grand displays of Fenwick, an up-market department store which opened only a few years prior. Its windows were glamoured up with the latest lady’s fashion, something I know Shiro’s mum hasn’t been able to stop talking about.

“They’re really putting it all out there aren’t they…?” I glance over to my brother and see him looking up and the beautiful dresses as we walk passed. “…I imagine it’s quite impressive inside.” He looks down at me and I make a noncommittal gesture. “You know, Keith, I understand that you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, but I’d really appreciate—” I tune Shiro’s voice out when something catches my eye.

A purple cloak hung over the back of an elegant mannequin. Her dress was a deep mustard yellow which contrasted with the purple perfectly. A deep greyish tone shimmered from its surface, just as the younger girl had described it the other day. If this is it, then…a woman – a very well-to-do woman? Or maybe what was witnessed that day wasn’t the same killer all together, what if that was something else – something new? Or maybe this was just another cloak…nothing…

“Keith?”

No blood, one laceration – we can’t possibly begin to assume the connections with everything that happens within this one city alone. Not every attack and crime can be accounted for with this one guy, just because people are scared, they feel like they can point it in one direction and feel better. But if the cloak isn’t a clue to _this_ killer then is this a waste of time? Should I forget about that part of the investigation? Should I forget about that killer— forget about this cloak?

“Keith!?” I jump when Shiro jostles my side and I look up. “Jesus, Keith, where did you go, I called your name like seven times.” I shake my head, trying to get out of the pathway my mind was going – I’m not here to work, I’m here to spend time with my brother…I look back up at the dress.

“Sorry…just thinking…” I look over the soft looking fabric and take a step back when the lights in the window suddenly go out, leaving the mannequin left in just the dull lights of the street. It made the woman appear more sinister, the bright colours of her outfit hurled into darkness…was this the kind of sight Miss Williams saw that night?

“Well don’t think too much…” I frown and turn away from the shop window. “…or you’re gonna get yourself hurt.” Shiro lets out a small chuckle, a weak attempt at lightening the mood I’d inevitably brought down. “Now let’s get some food, okay?” I spare one last glance at the dark window then follow my brother down the quieting Mayfair streets.

 

 

Dinner was nice, but I politely declined my brother’s offer to go back for tea. It was getting late and I needed time on my own to recharge. It felt good to be back in the East End – as ambivalent as the memories are in this part of the city – it’s still better than hanging around with those people in their pressed suits and Ritz dinners. The sun was officially down, and the cold air of November made the back of my neck prickle. I adjust the tailor bag on my arm and whip up the collar of my coat, protecting what little exposed flesh I had from the cold.

I shove my free hand into my pocket and search for my keys, the metal scratching against my hands. I hear a distant clanging noise from around the corner of a dark building, but the streets are near empty, except for a few bodies scattered in the dark recesses of the street’s shadows. I look down the endless road and listen to a couple stumble across from out one of the closer bars to my tenancy. I’d be lying if I said the familiar streets of London didn’t fill me with some unsettling feeling, they were the same as they’d always been – but somehow different.

I felt stuck in a vicious cycle of wanting to move on but feeling sick at the thought of letting it all go. Figments of shadows run through the pathetic circles of light cast down by the gas lamps still adorning the poorer pathways. It was when the city became this dark and cold husk that the accustomed sense of ease sent my mind back in time. The dark of the outside differed little from the dark back then – it was lighter, but lingered non-the-less…

_'Stay in there…'_

_'Don’t make a sound…'_

I continue down the road and clutch the bag tighter, it was a stupid thing to be carrying around this time of night. I’d be lucky to get back home with everything intact. I turn the corner and take a quick short cut towards Shadwell, the dark ground beneath me showing signs of it having rained earlier on in the day – perhaps whilst we were having dinner. The echoes of children play off in the night and I start to imagine if Lance was with them, what he was doing…

What was Lance’s life like in-between the long periods we don’t see one another? I found it hard to imagine him not smiling for even a moment, but a kidsman’s job isn’t an easy one…

_'Knowledge or death…'_

NO, nonononono

Not happening…

I stop in my tracks and take a deep breath, letting it out in another sigh. It had been a long day, a weird day. It had started with another woman murdered senselessly on the streets at night, a rather familiar yet equally thrown off conversation in a morgue, and now I have a new suit and possibly less leads and more killers. I needed to figure out a way of talking to the doctor set to marry the fourth victim, perhaps he could divulge some kind of insight into what the bloody hell was going on.

The cloak was something, it was important, and my gut told me not to forget about it. Whether it was a woman under that purple thing or not, perhaps an accomplice – not that a woman couldn’t do what had been carried out in this city…it would just be so much more…

Unheard of…

And then there’s the mark from this morning, 4/12, I needed to look into that…

I start walking again and feel my heartrate slow down the closer I get to the old tenancy building. I needed to sleep, somehow – but I wouldn’t hold my breath. The deeper the case gets and the more involved I become, the less my mind rests. I feel my spine stiffen when I hear a slow whistle from behind me, a low sound that signalled confidence and a want to be noticed…

“Well… doth my eyes deceive me or is that detective Kogane wanderin’ the dim dark streets of London…” My shoulders relax, and I turn to see Lance walking towards me from one of the smaller back allies.

“Lance…” I hadn’t seen him since we left the bar in the early hours of Friday last week. He’d sent his ‘confidant’ Pidge to deliver his information the next day and I hadn’t heard from him since.

Not that I was complaining…

“You know…” He takes a few more steps closer and I can finally make out his smile when he stands beneath the closest gas lamp. “…you should probably be more careful, there ‘ave been some pretty nasty murders around these parts recently…” He raises his eyebrows in a serious notion and it makes me scoff, hiding the stupid comfort my body settled into with his presence.

“You don’t say--?” My voice is bored, the cold and years of reclusive practice making it easy to hide any of the unwelcomed emotions that had begun to surface before he arrived – stopping the inevitable spiralling in it’s tracks. He had become pretty good at doing that… “Well, I sure hope someone’s doing something about that.” The sarcasm felt safe, like easy ground. Lance makes a sound that almost resembles amusement, but he quickly covers it up with some fake upper-class accent.

“Well, you know the coppers around here ain’t no Scotland Yard? Always dilly dallying, spending their time shucking up with whores and the likes…” He smiles, and I roll my eyes, his sense of humour not lost on me – just a little grating…

And not _at all_ endearing…

“Funny…” I let out another sigh and see my breath as it hits the cold atmosphere.

“So, what you been up to?” His attention is drawn to the bag by my side, then back to me, “Shopping?” I nod my head and lift the bag up in a half-hearted gesture. Lance takes a closer look at the bag, taking in the big fancy tailor name. He lets out another low whistle. “And what do you need a fancy suit like that for, Keith…hot date?” He wiggles his eyebrows and I have to stop my second eye roll in a matter of minutes.

“I have a…” I flail my free hand out miserably. “…a thing.”

“Ohh, a thing…wish I ‘ad a thing---”

“It’s a work thing…” Lance makes a face of acknowledgment and I push to get passed the topic of discussion, but he doesn’t quite give me the chance.

“What colour is it?” I frown in confusion.

“What?”

“Your fancy pancy suit…what colour is it?” I look at him for a minute and decide that from what little time I’ve spend with Lance, he could very well be completely serious.

“Why does it matter?”

“Of course it matters, Keith.” He makes a gesture for me to give him the bag and - against my better judgement – I do. Lance walks over to the edge of the curb and sits on the side, looking through the clothes Shiro and the tailor had insisted would look best. I watch various expressions cross his face as each piece of clothing is scrutinised and passed on. It would seem they had Lance’s seal of approval and I smile at the level of review he puts into my ‘fancy pancy’ suit.

“Well?” I raise an eyebrow, but it’s lost in the weak lighting of street lamps and moonlight. Lance nods his head slowly and glances at me before taking out the two neck ties.

“Why did you get two?” I shrug.

“I didn’t really know which one to get so my brother just got me both…I don’t really see the difference it would make, personally.” I watch as Lance sits up straighter and holds the red and blue ties towards me, his eyes squinting in concentration.

“The red one…” He moves the blue one away and stares at me for a moment longer. “It would compliment the navy of the jacket, and the red just…works for you.” I let out a nervous laugh, not really comfortable with the level of thought he’d put into my appearance.

“Okay…” The word was out before I knew it. “…if you say so.” Lance gives me a smile and I feel the warm feeling sink into my stomach.

For God’s sake…

“It is always best to consult a professional before committin’ to a three piece.” He places the red one away and I catch the deep blues of the now spare neck tie.

“It’ll save me the decision I suppose…” His eyes catch mine and there was more blue. “Why don’t you keep that one?” I point to the blue tie still clutched in Lances long lithe fingers. I don’t really know why I offered…

Because they went with his eyes—

Shut up shut up – I didn’t need the thing—

“And what exactly am I gonna do with a fancy silk neck tie that probably cost more than my boys beg for in a month?” He looks over to me and I feel a slither of guilt settle in my abdomen, but Lance’s expression didn’t hold any malice – it was a sincere question.

“What ever you want, wear it, pawn it…I don’t care…” I shrug, watching as Lance seems to contemplate my proposal for a moment, then he unties the accessory, offering it out to me and giving me a look. I shuffle my body around so that I can face him better and I put my hand out, taking the piece of over-priced material from him. Lance lets me adjust his collar and I run the tie around under his shirt, the rich blue already contrasting with the fading browns and greys of his street clothes. I wrap it in an unconventional knot so that it stuck out just enough to draw your eyes in, but not too much that it distracted from who Lance was – and he really wasn’t about this fancy shit.

He was far more authentic than anything those rich bastards could buy…

I settle back on the cold street path and take in my handy work. It did bring out the blue in his eyes, but I’d never tell him that – I don’t think I’d ever tell _anyone_ something so… intimate.

“How do I look?” The master pickpocket looks over to me and I smile.

“Like you just got pretty lucky as a dragsman and know how to wear it.” He lets out a laugh and brings his fingers up to run over the new addition to his attire.

“Really brings my outfit together, huh?” I nod my head and catch as his fingers fall back to his side, his attention back to me. “You know I’ll probably end up pawning it for money…for food.” He shrugs but smiles regardless. I nod my own head.

“If I thought my brother wouldn’t kill me…” I gesture to the bag still by Lance’s feet. “…I’d let you pawn the whole God damn suit.” He lets out a scoff but hands me back my bag anyway, an unsure look crossing his face in a flash.

“That’s real sweet of ya Keith, but - well…” He smiles. “I sure wouldn’t wanna ruin your _thing_ …” I laugh, and we sit there in a comfortable silence just for a moment.

“Thanks…by the way.” I adjust my position on the ground and let my hands rest on my knees. “For the information the other day, it’s actually a big help in figuring out some kind of connection with all these women.” I clear my throat a little and wonder whether I should say much more. “There was another this morning—”

“Murder?” Lance frowns and part of me is surprised he didn’t already know.

“Yeah…yeah, they haven’t let it out in the paper yet because the press is starting to get pretty heated over the lack of…well…results, I guess.” I look over to Lance and shrug one shoulder. “Hence the ‘thing’ I have to go to.”

“Damage control?” I look down at the damp, cold floor and shake my head.

“More like a… passive aggressive encouragement to pull our heads out our asses.” I look back up and see Lances expression fall a little at my honesty. It was true – I honestly couldn’t think of why else the superintendent would want to meet up with a bunch of East End coppers, apart from trying to get some of the heat off himself. Whether the higher ups are directly involved in the case or not, they’re still the ones who get the blame when things aren’t done as efficiently as the public would like. 

“Good luck to you then.” I let out a short humourless laugh and fiddle with the handle of my bag. “You gonna follow any of the leads the info linked to?” I nod.

“Yeah, I somehow need to get a hold of that doctor—”

“The fiancé?”

“Yeah…” My mind goes back to the cloak, another lead I felt I couldn’t not follow. If I managed to get a warrant for the store, I should be able to find out who had purchased the garment in recent months. In order to do that, however, I’d need jurisdiction for the high end of West Central, and that wasn’t going to be easy. I’d have to go through Sendak which would be a case in and of itself. They’d never give me information like that with a badge alone – I need to find another way of getting in there…or at least getting that warrant…

“Hey…?” I feel a nudge to my side and look over. “You do that a lot you know.” There’s a slither of concern on Lance’s face but I choose to ignore it.

I was just thinking…

“Sorry…” I was starting to feel the cold seep through the few layers I had on, but I didn’t have it in me to tell my body to move – not until I had to. “So, Pidge was something else…” I let the statement hang in the air and let out a small sigh of relief when Lance laughs, looking over at the empty road beyond us.

“Yeah, she’s…” He nods his head. “…she’s helped me out a lot over the years. Very good with locks…amongst other things--” I think back to the conversation I’d had with her on the bench in Newington.

Great with locks, huh?

“---you know she liked you.” My thinking stops abruptly, and I give Lance a dumbfounded look. “Yeah, I didn’t really get it either…” I hit him lightly on the shoulder and he sniggers. “It says a lot about you as a person, Pidge doesn’t warm kindly to many people so quickly. I suppose you were two equally sardonic kindred spirits.” Lance motions his hand through the air in a profound gesture.

“Yeah, yeah…” I take my hat off temporarily to run cold fingers through my hair. “Hey, can I pick your brain over something?” I place my hat back on and watch as Lance’s eyes light up a little with excitement.

“Why yes, pick away…”

“It’s kind of random, but do you know of any significance to the date December fourth?” Lance taps a finger on his chin in contemplation and his eyes shine a little as a cloud passes from in front of the moon.

“I knew a kid once whose birthday fell on that date…” He looks over to me and frowns, dismissing his comment. “…but he was a bit of a nicky, so I can’t imagine he has much significance in anything.” I chuckle at Lance’s attempt at help. “Sorry, that’s not very helpful is it?” I shake my head.

“No, no not really.” I nudge the bag with the toe of my boot and look up at the sky. The rest of the clouds were parting ways and give way to the stars that stretched across the northern hemisphere.

“Is this about the women?”

“Supposedly…” I shrug. “…I don’t really know.” I fish through my pockets and pull out my pocket watch. It was twenty minutes past the eleventh hour – I must have been sitting on this street with Lance for a while now.

“Glad to see you’ve managed to hold onto it this time.” I can hear the smugness in Lance’s tone and place the watch back in my pocket with a tight grin.

“Yeah, I think I’ve learnt my lesson.” I have to think for moment, not wanting to waste the time that went by whilst Lance was with me – who knew when he’d appear again – like some spontaneous meteor shower. “Do you think Pidge would be able to help me with something?” I put the question out there nonchalantly but see Lance raise an eyebrow, shoulders perked up at the subtle subtext.

“With something… _illegal_ , Keith?” I let out a huff.

“Would it matter?”

“No…” Lance was smiling, I could hear it. “…I just want to hear _you_ say it…”

“Fine…” I turn to look at him. “…I just need to acquire some…paperwork…for the case.”

“Can’t you just get it, you are a cop remember, you have privileges and shit that get you those things?” I shake my head again.

“This is a bit more complicated than that, its…” I fidget, not really knowing how to explain that some police see other police work as of lesser importance thus not really giving us the time and/or means to do our job. “I just need someone who can sneak by whilst unnoticed.” I give Lance a questioning look and he peers off for a moment, thinking about my request.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that can be arranged…but you know, I can cause a pretty convincing distraction when need be.” The offer was out there…and a plan was starting to fall into place.

“Okay…I think that could work…” I smile…

I wonder if Hunk will help me out as well…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr- jovialjellyfishreaper
> 
> Glossary-  
> Diener – Someone who works in a morgue  
> Dollymop – Amateur prostitute  
> Chavy – Kid  
> Brass – Money  
> Benji – Waistcoat  
> Dragsman – Thief who steals luggage from a moving cab  
> Nicky – Simple in the head

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr - jovialjellyfishreaper
> 
> Glossary-  
> Judy – Prostitute  
> Benz Viktoria – Victorian car (looks a bit like a self-driven carriage)  
> Gallies – Boots  
> Vazey – Victorian slang for ‘Idiotic’  
> Meater – Coward  
> Don – Expert, The Best  
> Sawney – Bacon  
> 6 Quarts – about 1.5 gallon  
> Tail – Prostitute  
> Toffer – A class whore  
> Neck oil – Beer  
> Full up to the knocker – Drunk  
> Nancy Boy – derogative term for homosexual  
> Hedge Creeper – Prostitute from the country-side  
> Ratbag – common Victorian insult  
> Blinker – black eye  
> Welsher – Informer  
> Artful Dodger – Lodger


End file.
